


every stone a story

by phantisma



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Forced Prostitution, M/M, Prostitution, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Underage Prostitution, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-09
Updated: 2011-02-13
Packaged: 2017-12-06 13:10:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 38,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/736080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantisma/pseuds/phantisma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is a few months shy of seventeen when John is hurt in a car accident coming home from a hunt.  The accident lands him in a coma and leaves Dean trying to find a way to support Sam when he can't reach their emergency contacts.  What starts out as a seemingly simple job stripping turns into anything but and Dean finds himself in a game where the only card he has to play is his own body and the deck is stacked against him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

Dean grumbled to himself as he shuffled through the cold, dark house toward the knocking on the front door. They had only been in town since the beginning of the school year and the only one who knew anyone in the neighborhood was his pipsqueak younger brother who would talk to anyone most of the time.

He rubbed at his eyes when he spotted the clock, which told him it was twenty minutes past three in the morning, and he'd been in bed all of four hours. It was cold as he opened the door, squinting into the bright light of some cop's flashlight.

He shivered, wishing he'd grabbed something to throw on over his bare chest. They hadn't bothered getting the gas turned on, because their father said they wouldn't be there long, but he was beginning to think this was one of those towns they ended up in longer than expected. "Officers?"

Two of them nodded in unison to him. "Sorry to wake you. Are you Dean Winchester?"

His heart thumped, wondering what they had tracked to him, probably that credit card he'd lifted a few towns back…or maybe that girl who had told him she was seventeen wasn't actually seventeen. He looked up, realizing they had said his real name. His whole real name.

He only used that for school and things like getting his real drivers license. There would only be one reason to have two cops at his door at nearly three thirty in the morning using his real name.

"This about my father?" Dean asked, praying he was wrong. They couldn't afford bail money. Hell, they couldn't afford food, let alone heat.

"May we come in?" The taller of the two asked.

Dean nodded and stepped back, letting them into the run down old house. "What's he done now?" Dean asked, closing the door on the cold night air that was starting to smell like snow.

"Mr. Winchester, we're sorry to be the ones to tell you this. There was an accident."

Dean's thumping heart skipped a beat before resuming at a quicker and louder pace. "What?"

"Your father's truck was rolled several times and he suffered severe injuries."

"Is he…" Dean blinked, visions of his father's broken and bloody body filling his head. "Is he okay?"

"He's at the County hospital, Son. It's pretty bad."

"Dean?"

Sam was there suddenly, looking small and scared and Dean instinctively held out a hand for him, pulling him in close. "I…um…I should go. We should go there."

"We'll take you," the shorter of the two said.

Dean blinked, suddenly realizing they had rules in place for this. He knew what he had to do. Get rid of the cops, call Pastor Jim, pack up their shit. When their father could slip out of the hospital he would, and they needed to be ready to run.

It was never as bad as the doctors made it out to be. Not when it was John Winchester. The last time Dean had panicked and called Jim and they were gone six hours later, and while his father had walked with a limp for a while, he'd been fine.

"I…I have a car." Dean said. He pushed Sam out to arm's length and looked him in the eye. "Go get dressed."

Sam nodded and headed for his bedroom.

"Is there someone you can call?"

Dean shook his head. "It's just the three of us."

"Let us at least follow you, make sure you get there okay?"

"I'm sure we'll be fine. You said County?"

"Be careful out there, the roads are pretty icy."

Dean walked them to the door. "I will. Thank you." He closed the door and exhaled to try to pull himself together. He needed to find the keys to the Impala. Which he wasn't supposed to drive. The truck had been supposed to be his. They had picked up an old junker so that his father could teach him how to rebuild the engine over the winter. But the truck had snow tires and the Impala didn't, so his father had taken it for this hunt.

He'd only had his real license a few months. His father had rules about the car, one of which was Dean couldn't drive it until he knew how to take care of it. Dean shook his head and went to shed his sweat pants and pull on jeans and a t-shirt. He shoved his feet into his boots and headed across the hall to his father's room.

John Winchester had been gone for nearly two weeks, heading to a town north of them to deal with…some supernatural monster that Dean couldn't remember right at that moment. He'd been due back a few days before, but had called and said he'd hit on another case and would be a little longer.

That had been before the cold snap had plunged the temperatures and made the small house freezing cold at night. They were down to about five dollars of what he'd left them and the credit card Dean had was just about used up. They had a box of stale cereal and a couple of freezer burned hot dogs and not much else.

Which meant they had no money for hospital bills.

He rummaged through the underwear drawer of his father's dresser until he found the hidden keys, then headed for the living room, pulling on a button down shirt. Sam was standing at the door, holding Dean's jacket.

"We're supposed to call Pastor Jim." Sam said softly.

Dean nodded, taking the jacket. "We will. First we need to see how bad it is. Besides, it's too early for calling. Ain't even four yet."

"Is Dad going to be okay?"

Dean opened the door and gestured toward the car. "I don't know Sam. Lets just go see him, okay?"

 

 

 

Sam slipped his hand into Dean's as they walked into an ER filled with bleeding and coughing and moaning people. He ignored them and went to the desk. "Excuse me?"

The nurse held up her hand and finished writing something on a chart then looked up at him. "How can I help you?"

"I, um, I'm Dean Winchester. My father was in an accident? John Winchester?"

She nodded and poked at the computer in front of her. "Okay, Mr. Winchester. If I could just have you take a seat, I'll see if I can find someone to come talk to you."

Sam tugged him toward the rows of chairs and he went reluctantly, watching as Sam sat. He couldn't sit. He didn't like hospitals. And sitting was always a bad idea.

Sitting made it real. It was like admitting that the reason you were there was serious.

So he paced, but not too far. He wanted to be in arms reach of his brother. Sam grabbed his arm and stood a few minutes later as a man in a lab coat approached. "Dean Winchester?"

Dean nodded. "Yes, you are?"

"Dr. Havilan, could you follow me?" He led them away from the people in the waiting room, down a hall and into a small office. "Please, sit."

"I would rather see me father."

The doctor put his hands in the pockets of his coat. "In a few moments, we've only just brought him out of surgery. Let us get him settled in his room first."

Sam's hand tightened in his. "Surgery?" Dean asked, moving toward the chairs and sinking into one of them. Sam stood, hovering at his shoulder, still clinging to his hand.

The doctor perched on the side of the desk. "Your father attempted to crawl out of the truck, through the broken window. We had to dig glass out of his stomach and his back, as well as repair some internal damage caused by the crash."

Cuts and glass Dean could handle. "Okay." There was clearly more. Dean could almost feel the man measuring him up. "What else?"

"The head trauma is pretty severe and the swelling and bruising around his spine has us concerned. Unfortunately, we won't know the extent of the damage until he wakes up."

"But he's going to be okay, right?" Sam asked, blinking up at the doctor.

"We just don't know right now."

Dean swallowed down the sudden flare of fear. Sam needed him to be strong, to be the big brother. "Can we see him?"

"Let me see if we're ready." The doctor left them alone and Dean turned to Sam.

"You remember what we're supposed to do, right Sammy?" Dean asked, taking Sam's other hand and squeezing.

Sam nodded. "Assess the situation. Call Pastor Jim to come get us. Pack our stuff, load the car."

"Right. We can do that, right?"

Sam nodded again. The door opened and Dr. Havilan gestured at them. "I'll take you to him."

They went to a bank of elevators and up five floors, then past a nurse's station and down a long hall. The doctor pushed the door open and Dean stumbled past him. His father's face was pale, what he could see of it around the bandages and the machines. Sam's hand slipped into his, squeezing. It was bad.

It was worse than bad.

Dean was ready for banged up, and unconscious. He'd been prepared for the machines and bandages. But this?

He shook his head as they inched closer. He wasn't ready for this. This was…worse than he'd ever seen.

He stood silently beside the bed for a long time, then lifted his shaking hand to the phone beside the bed, quickly dialing Jim's number before he could freeze. He needed to stay focused and calm. He couldn't let Sam know how bad this was.

The phone rang for a long time, then dumped to voice mail. "Pastor Jim, it's Dean…um…Dean Winchester. I…need you."

 

 

 

Fifteen hours.

Dean paced from the bed to the door and back, around Sam's feet. Sam was crashed in the chair in the corner, his feet stretched out to keep him from falling out onto the floor.

Fifteen hours and his father hadn't moved, hadn't opened an eye or twitched a finger.

Dr. Havilan had said the first hours would be the most critical, but that the longer before he woke up, the harder recovery would be.

He had tried Pastor Jim a couple of times, getting his voicemail over and over. They were on their own for now.

There was a soft knock on the door and a man's head poked into the room. "Mr. Winchester?"

Dean glanced at Sam, then went to the door, pushing the man back into the hallway. "What?"

"I know this is not the best time, but my name is Harold Holding, I'm from the finance department of the hospital."

"Finance?" Dean scowled at him. "My father could be dying and you want me to talk about money?"

The man held up a hand. "I'm sorry. I realize this is difficult, but I'm just trying to do my job. I need to go over your father's information with you, so that I can see what I can do to help."

"Help? You wanna help, get out of my face." Dean growled.

"I wish I could, but I have to do this. Why don't we sit?" He gestured at the chairs and Dean snarled at him, but went to sit.

"Now, as far as we can tell, your father has no insurance, is that right?"

"No insurance, no money, no income." Dean said harshly, glancing up at the door to his father's room.

Harold nodded, making notes on his paperwork. "Do you have any resources to pay his medical costs?"

"Mister, I barely have the resources to feed my little brother right now." Dean said, shaking his head.

Harold stopped writing and folded his hands over his papers. "Can I ask you how old you are?"

Dean froze for a second. This guy could call in Child Protective Services, then he'd lose Sam. "Twenty one."

Harold looked him over, squinting at him.

"I'm old enough to be taking care of him, if that's what you're thinking." Dean amended.

"No, sorry. I know a guy…he might have a job you could do. Not everyone can do it though."

"I can do just about anything I put my mind to." Dean countered.

Harold fumbled with pulling out his wallet and pulled a business card from it. "You have a good look for it, and I'm guessing you could make good money. You get paid in tips, so the better you do the job, the more money you make."

He handed the card to Dean, who took it, frowning down at it. The job didn't sound all together legal. He snorted when he saw that the card was for a strip club. "Right." He shook his head and tried to hand the card back.

Harold stood instead of taking it. "I'm just trying to help. Charlie is good at what he does. He makes money. If he likes your look, he can help you make money. He might even front you enough to feed the kid."

"Look, man…I'm not…" He gestured with the card.

"Keep the card. In case you change your mind." Harold walked away, leaving Dean holding his coffee and the business card. He looked down at it. "Exotic Dancers, private shows…"

He shoved it into his pocket and headed back to his father's room. They weren't that desperate yet.

 

 

 

He hung up the phone with a sigh and moved to pour the last of the cereal into Sam's bowl. They were both bundled up in four layers of clothes, just trying to keep warm. "Still no answer at Jim's." Dean said, his voice soft.

Sam nodded, but didn't answer. He looked at the bowl, then up at Dean. "Aren't you eating?"

Dean sighed. "I need to go get some money. Hustle some pool or something."

Which meant leaving Sam alone. He didn't like it.

"I'm a big boy." Sam said as if he knew what Dean was thinking. "I'll be fine."

Dean nodded. "I shouldn't be too long. Don't stay up too late. You have school in the morning."

"So do you." Sam corrected.

Dean shook his head. "Not now. Someone needs to keep an eye on Dad."

He left Sam picking at the cereal and headed for the car. He'd used the fake ID in his wallet to get into bars before, had even hustled pool before, but his father had always been nearby.

He stuck his hand in his pocket for the keys and came out with the business card Harold had given him. He got into the car and started, savoring the heat that she put out. He couldn't keep them living like this. It was only the middle of October and they were already blanketed in snow. It was only going to get colder. He needed to get the heat turned on, and he needed to get food into both of them. Real food, not just peanut butter and cereal.

He didn't consciously drive to the address on the card, or at least that's what he told himself. He was just looking for a place to play some pool.

Two days.

Two days his father had been unconscious.

They had never been in a spot this bad. Dean had even picked up the phone to call Bobby, but he and his father had fought pretty badly the last time they had seen one another. His father would be furious if Dean called Bobby.

Pastor Jim hadn't answered his phone, and Dean had left three messages. He was probably out on a hunt himself, and knowing the kinds of hunts that Jim left his church to chase after, Dean was better off waiting now for Jim to call back. He didn't want to be responsible for getting the man killed.

All of which brought him here, sitting in front of a strip club named "Bucket of Aces" turning the owner's business card over and over between his fingers.

How hard could it be? Dean could move. He had never been much of a dancer, but all the training kept him fit and limber. Just move to the music and take your clothes off while a bunch of desperate, lonely women watch and stuff dollar bills in your shorts.

He could do that.

He huffed and opened the door of the car, climbing out and heading up to the door. Music with a heavy bass pounded out at him as he approached, his eyes skimming over the well kept façade of the building. It was in better shape than most strip joints, though he supposed women looking for strippers would demand more than some dirty back room joint.

He nodded greeting to the bouncer and held up the card. "I'm here to see him?"

The bouncer nodded and gestured for Dean to go inside. The place was quiet aside from the music. No patrons yet to speak of, one bartender behind the bar on the right of the room. Dean headed that way, holding up a hand in greeting. "I'm looking for the owner?"

"Well, you found him." Dean turned to face the smiling man who had appeared behind him. "I'm Charlie, and who might you be?"

"Dean." He held out his hand and Charlie took it, shaking it heartily. "I was told you might be hiring?"

Charlie's eyes swept over Dean as he smiled, and somehow it made Dean feel just a little bit slimy. "Might be. Why don't we go into my office to talk. Things don't pick up around here for another hour or so."

He followed Charlie into a small office cluttered with files and papers. "So Dean…you ever dance before?" Charlie shut the door and gestured to one of the chairs.

Dean sat, fidgeting a little. "In front of people? No. But I can move."

Charlie chuckled and moved behind the desk to his chair. "What brought you here?"

"This guy…Harold…gave me your card. Said you might be able to help me out."

"Harold." Charlie nodded. "He only sends guys my way when they're in a pretty bad spot. You in a bad spot?"

Dean sat stiffly. "You might say that. My father's in the hospital. My brother needs to eat."

"Family guy. I like that." He sat back, looking at Dean and narrowing his eyes. "You old enough to be in a joint like this?"

"Yes sir." Dean responded, though he half expected the man would see through the lie. He was still a few months from his seventeenth birthday.

"I don't do paperwork or none of that, so relax. As far as I'm concerned my dancers are contractors. You work the stage, keep the audience happy and drinking. You keep your tips. I don't pay you, so I don't have to do taxes and all that shit."

Dean relaxed a little into the chair. "Convenient."

Charlie grinned and nodded. "Isn't it? Saves me a hell of a headache. So, you never did this before, but you think I should let you dance here?"

"How hard could it be?" Dean asked, exhaling slowly. "Look, truth is I don't have a lot of options. We have no heat, no food. I need this. I can make this work."

"How old is he…your brother?" Charlie asked.

"Twelve." Dean responded before he thought better of it. "I take care of him."

"Always have, I'll bet." Charlie stood suddenly. "I'll tell you what I'll do. I'm going to take you back and introduce you to Matty. He's one of our favorite dancers, and he's good with the ideas. You and him talk a bit, have him dress you up, and then you come out and dance for me. I like what I see, you can stay."

"What…like right now?" Dean asked, standing too, suddenly very nervous.

"No time like the present. Come on."

Dean followed him to the back of the club, behind the stage and into a long dressing room lined with mirrors and costumes. A guy in a g-string and eyeliner lifted a hand before pulling a robe around his shoulders.

"Hey, Matty, this here is Dean. I'm giving him a try out. Why don't you get him set up for me, okay?"

"Sure thing, Charlie."

Charlie left then, and Dean shifted his weight from foot to foot, looking around him. "So…ah…"

"Never done this before, right?" Matty asked, sliding into a chair in front of a mirror. "Neither had I before a year ago. Sit."

Dean took the seat next to Matty's and watched him in the mirror for a second. "So, you got any idea what you want to dance to?"

"Does it matter?" Dean asked with a shrug. "I mean….I guess I hadn't thought about it."

"Okay, let's start with something simpler." Matty turned toward him, looking him over. "I bet you would do good with a biker look…a little innocent for it, but that will change. You'll need a g-string…black I think…and a pair of Speedos…tear away jeans…Sit here a minute. Let me see what I've got."

Twenty minutes later Dean felt absolutely ridiculous in layers of clothing that did nothing to protect him from the cold and a pair of biker boots that were too tight. Some generic house music was blaring and Matty was telling him to just let go and let the music move him before shoving him out on the stage.

He felt clunky as he kept himself from falling. The lights were blinding and he nearly ran off the stage, but he could just make out Charlie sitting near the stage. He could do this.

He closed his eyes and listened to the music for a second, then let his hips start moving. It took him far too long to find the strength to open his eyes and move, but once he did, he just forced himself to focus on the job, on the money. On giving Sam a full breakfast in the morning.

He pulled the denim jacket back off his shoulders, rolling each shoulder in time with the music and turning so his back was against the pole at center stage. He let the pole hold him as he slid down it, bending his knees, sliding his hands down his legs and spreading them open.

Yeah, he could do this.

He dropped the jacket and strutted to the pole at the end of the runway, moving around it as he unbuttoned the jeans. Charlie was watching closely now and Dean could make out the shadows of other people in the room too. He moved his hips and turned so his ass was to the audience before yanking on the jeans. The Velcro gave way and the jeans came off in his hands. He tossed them behind him and shook his ass at Charlie.

He danced around the pole, down to the end of the stage where he fucked the air before teasing a finger around the waistband of the Speedos. He tugged and one side came loose, and he turned and tugged on the other, dropping the red Speedos, and exposing his entire ass to the audience as the song ended and he stalked back toward the back of the stage.

There was scattered applause and the stage lights dimmed. Dean was panting as Matty handed him a robe and a few minutes later Charlie was in the dressing room grinning at him. "It needs work, but I think you got what we need, kid."

"Does that mean I get the job?" Dean asked.

"We'll start you out with two dances a night. If you improve, we'll give you more. Sound good?"

Dean nodded. It sounded like money.

"Here, take this." Charlie handed him a hundred dollar bill.

"What's this for?" Dean asked.

"Consider it a signing bonus." Two guys came in from a back door, pulling off winter coats. "Come on back tomorrow night and we'll get you started."

Dean took the money and went back into the dressing area to pull his own clothes back on. It was enough to get some food in the house.

 

 

 

"Does food mean you cheated some guy out of his paycheck?" Sam asked as Dean set a plate of scrambled eggs on the table in front of him.

"Actually, I got a job." Dean responded. "It's nights though, you going to be okay with that?"

Sam looked up at him with a pinched face. "What am I, two?"

"No, you're twelve. Dad will kill me if he finds out I'm leaving you alone." Dean leaned back against the counter and reached for his own plate. "But we need the money."

"What kind of job is gonna hire you to work nights?"

"It's a bar." Dean answered after he swallowed. "I'm bussing tables and washing glasses."

"Do they know you're sixteen?"

"Eat your breakfast." He didn't like lying to his brother, but Sam would never understand. And Sam couldn't keep a secret, not one like this. If Sam found out, his father would know just as soon as he was awake.

"What about Pastor Jim?" Sam asked.

"What about him?" Dean responded. "He'll call when he can. If he doesn't, well, that means he's got bigger problems than us." He put his plate down. "I'll drive you to school, but you'll have to get home on your own."

"You going to the hospital?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, keep an eye on Dad."

He had other plans, but those too he wasn't telling Sam. He would go to the hospital, but after that he had to figure out a way to not get fired on his first night. He knew his performance was lacking, and he had to find a way to make it better. Better dancing meant more money. He understood that.

So, he had a plan. He was going to go rent every movie he could with dancing in it. There was a video place not far from the school that had an adult section in it, and he figured he would find at least one striptease type video there too.

With Sam in school it gave him a few hours to practice a few moves…and try to come up with a way to do this and still hold on to his dignity.

 

 

 

Matty was waiting for him when he slipped in the back door, grinning. "You ready for your ride, sweet thing?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Dude, don't call me that."

Matty laughed and gestured toward his mirror. "Come on. I'll help you out tonight, but tomorrow you're on your own."

Dean peeled off his jacket and outer shirt before sitting in the chair.

"Boys, this here is Dean. Tonight's his first night, so play nice."

A big man in leather stepping away from the costumes chuckled. "Fresh meat, the boys out front are going to like that." He came to stand behind Dean, hands on his shoulders. "Heh, pretty one too. Look at those lips."

Matty shoved the bigger man away and shook his head. "Down Cujo, Don't mind him. That's Spike. The college boys seem to really like him. That one over there with the ridiculous hair is Dom and the pretty one preening in the mirror is Jay."

Dean looked at them then at Matty in the mirror. "Wait, college boys?"

Matty chuckled and reached over him for a comb. "Don't tell me you were expecting an audience of bored housewives and bachelorettes?"

Dean tried to swallow the sudden panic, and keep it off his face. "A guy can hope, right?"

"Sure. Hope." Matty threw clothes in his lap, the same get up he'd worn the night before. "Get dressed. You got a song picked?"

He did, but now he felt silly asking for it. He cleared his throat and shifted his weight. "I…maybe….um…Wild Thing?"

The guys all chuckled and Matty nodded. "If you're going to go with that, you better make sure you are…wild, that is."

Dean blushed and fussed with the clothes. He'd found a video with a man stripping to the song and he'd worked all afternoon on it. "Yeah, I worked on it." Dean grumbled, standing up and putting the rip away clothing on the chair. He wasn't actually sure he could go through with it though, not with a room full of guys.

"He's young, Matty, give it to him." Jay said as Dean started pulling off his street clothes. "Or are you worried he'll do it better than you did?"

"Shut up Jay, shouldn't you be on stage?"

Matty waited for Dean to get into the jeans before he gestured for him to sit back down. He brushed powder over Dean's face, then fussed with his hair, making it stand up more than it normally did on its own.

"What's that about?" Dean asked.

Matty rolled his eyes. "Two years ago I was you. Wild Thing was the first song I danced to. I made a complete ass of myself, fell off the stage." He forced a laugh. "Charlie wanted to kick me back on the street, but I begged him for one more chance."

Dean watched his face tighten and Matty moved away. "Good thing he likes a pretty face." Matty's hands tightened on Dean's shoulders. "Just don't fall off the stage, and don't give Charlie a reason to make you beg him for another chance."

That sounded ominous, but the music flared and Jay disappeared from the dressing room to the sounds of applause from the audience.

 

 

Two songs later, Dean was peeking out through the curtains at the nearly full house. It was a Thursday night, but the place seemed to be hopping. He was scared to death, and the thought of doing something disastrous was circling in his brain, making him second guess himself.

The boots felt tighter somehow and the g-string was digging into his skin and Matty was signaling him from the sound booth.

"Okay, boys, we have a special treat for you. Making his debut appearance with us tonight, a hot young stud ready for a sweet ride, give it up boys, for Mustang!"

Dean rolled his eyes at Matty's idea for a name as the opening strains of Wild Thing sounded. Dean pushed through the curtains just in time to snap his hips in time to the first words.

The rowdy front row was cheering. He rolled his hips, mouthing the words until he got to the pole in the center of the stage. He put his back against is as the music stopped for the spoken part. "Wild Thing I think I love you."

He dropped to a squat, knees spread wide, then slid back up the pole. "But I wanna know for sure." He dropped the jacket off his shoulders. "Come on and hold me tight."

One guy in the front row, a blond who was clearly drunk, waved a five at him and Dean figured this was how he was going to make the money, so he moved closer, leaning out to him. "I love you."

Dean slid back, taking the five and moving to the other side of the stage. He moved and gyrated, dancing around the pole before ripping the jeans off.

"Wild thing, you make my heart sing…"

He froze in panic as he felt hands on his ass, then realized those hands were stuffing money in his g-string. He turned, which put his barely covered cock in the face of some man.

"I'll show you a wild thing or two…" Dean moved to step back, but the guy was holding his leg. Then suddenly, the bouncer was there, shoving the man back into his seat. Dean stumbled back into the pole, trying to shaking it off.

He was trembling as the song neared its end, but he did his best not to show it and collecting a few dollars on his way off stage. Matty met him behind the curtain, but Dean shoved him away, pushing back into the dressing room.

"Shit."

"Hey, man…settle down."

One of the guys handed him a shot glass and Dean took it, tipping it back and swallowing fast. "You okay?" Matty asked after a few seconds and Dean managed a nod.

"Just…I…he grabbed…and I wasn't…"

"They ain't supposed to touch." Matty said. "But sometimes they get grabby. You gotta learn how to handle it."

Dean nodded. He wasn't sure he could make himself go back out there. "You'll be fine. You don't go on again for a while. By then, that asswipe will be gone." Matty patted his shoulder.

His second number wasn't so bad, and he even managed to be a little flirtatious. By the time it was over he had a good twenty dollars in his g-string. It wasn't a lot, but he could use it as stakes in some pool hustling on his way home, maybe triple it.

It wasn't bad.

He was just pulling his coat on when the bouncer appeared at the door of the dressing room and pointed at him. "Boss wants you."

Dean followed the big guy out into the bar that was still hopping, drunk patrons screaming at whoever was on stage. He was led out to Charlie's office, and the door closed behind him. Charlie handed him a shot glass.

"First off, you okay? You shouldn't have gotten grabbed like that."

Dean took the glass but didn't drink the shot right away. He could already feel the effects of the first shot. "I'm fine. I was a little shaken up at first, but I'm fine."

"How do you think it went, drunk grab aside?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know."

"I'll tell you what I saw. You were uncomfortable, stiff and uncoordinated. The music didn't suit you. Still, the crowd seemed to like you."

Dean wasn't sure how to take that. He sipped at the shot. "It was my first try. I'll make it better."

"Oh, I'm sure you will. I have to say though, it's pretty obvious you aren't into guys."

Dean almost choked, coughing. "Um…I didn't realize you needed me to be gay?"

"Helps. You gotta sell what you're selling."

"What I'm selling?" Dean's face was flushed and red and he was starting to sweat under his clothes. "I'm just dancing."

"No, no, you're putting your merchandise on display, and if the customers can tell that you don't really want to sell it, they aren't gonna want to buy."

"So, you want me to pretend that I like guys?" He shook his head, trying to clear the buzz from it.

Charlie came from around the desk, pushing the hand with the shot glass up toward Dean's face. "I want you to drink your shot. Then I'll have Spike take you home."

"I have my own car." Dean argued, though he swallowed the whiskey as Charlie tipped the glass into his mouth.

"I'll have Matty follow you in it." His fingers pushed into Dean's pocket and came out with his keys. "You're in no shape to drive."

Dean shouldn't have been that drunk that fast, but he couldn't quite keep track of what was going on. Next thing he knew he was in a car and Spike was talking about dicks and then he was home, the Impala pulling into the driveway.

"Get some sleep." Matty said as he handed back the keys. "Tomorrow night is going to be a big night."

 


	2. every stone a story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is a few months shy of seventeen when John is hurt in a car accident coming home from a hunt. The accident lands him in a coma and leaves Dean trying to find a way to support Sam when he can't reach their emergency contacts. What starts out as a seemingly simple job stripping turns into anything but and Dean finds himself in a game where the only card he has to play is his own body and the deck is stacked against him.

He woke to the sun nearly blinding him and Sam watching him from the doorway of the bedroom. "The hospital called."

Dean sat up fast, then grabbed for his head, which seemed two sizes too big and filled with sludge. "What did they say?"

"Dad woke up."

"Okay…just…give me a minute."

Sam crossed his arms. "Coffee's ready. We got snow. I'll go dig the car out."

Dean knew he was pissed. He just wasn't sure what it was about. He put his feet on the floor and stood slowly, shuffling toward the bathroom. He shouldn't be so hung over from just two shots. He relieved himself and started the shower, hoping it would help shake the cobwebs from his brain.

Twenty minutes later he had a cup of coffee into him and was putting his boots on while Sam waited.

"Okay, lets go." Dean waited until they were on the street and headed toward the hospital. "You gonna tell me what's got you angry?"

"I heard you come home." Sam said, crossing his arms. "You were drunk."

"I wasn't drunk." Dean countered, though he was less convincing than he wanted to be as he rubbed his bloodshot eye.

"Right. I've seen drunk before, Dean. You were mumbling and falling into walls."

Dean sighed. "Okay, look. The guys at the bar wanted to welcome me to the team. They bought me a few drinks. It was nothing."

"I don't like this job." Sam crossed his arms and turned his face away.

Dean couldn't argue with him there. He didn't much like it either. He parked the car and together they headed in to the hospital, aiming for the room their father was in. They were met by Dr. Havilen as they got off the elevator.

"Our dad?" Dean asked.

Havilen's eyes narrowed as they swept over Dean. "Rough night." Dean said to head him off. "My father?"

"Come to my office."

"I'd rather see him." Dean said.

"We should talk first."

Dean stopped and looked at him. "Sam said you called and said he was awake. I want to see him."

"He was awake, yes."

"Was?" Dean frowned at him. "I don't understand."

"Please, come down to my office and I'll explain."

He led Dean and Sam into his office and closed the door. "Your father came out of the coma on his own early this morning. He was in a great deal of pain, but he answered a few of our questions and responded well to the tests we ran to determine the extent of the damage to his back."

"So, when can we take him home?" Dean asked. He was eager to be done with this town.

Dr. Havilen shook his head. "I don't think you understand, Son. Your father has a pretty severe injury to his back. We still haven't ruled out surgery to repair the damage."

Dean inhaled sharply. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"Your father isn't out of the woods yet, and may not be for some time. Even if we were to wake him up right now, he may not walk again."

Sam's hand squeezed Dean's and Dean's stomach twisted inside him. "What?"

"We had to put him back into a medically induced coma, to prevent him from injuring himself more. Until we can determine the right course of action for the spinal injury, we plan to keep him under.”

“Dean…”

“It’s okay Sam. It’s going to be okay.” Dean pulled Sam to him, holding him tight for a minute. “Can we see him now?”

Dr. Havilen nodded. “Of course.”

His father looked paler than he remembered as he stood by the bed. Some of the bandages were gone, and his face had a slack expression, the dark hair standing out starkly against the pale skin.

The stitches over his left eye looked nasty, the skin around it dark with bruising. “He’s gonna be okay, right?” Sam asked, his voice wavering.

“Course he will.” Dean responded, a little too fast, a little to tightly.

“Can we stay a while?”

“Sure.” Dean said, pulling the chair closer to the bed. “I don’t have to be to work until eight. We can stay as long as you want.”

 

 

The club was already hopping, the music booming out into the cold winter street as Dean arrived and headed around to the back door. He’d spent a big chunk of the afternoon thinking about what Charlie had said. He was right, Dean had been clunky and uncomfortable.

And the music, while classic, wasn’t really right for him. He needed something…more suited to his particular tastes. And the costume wasn’t really right either. He needed something…better.

Matty was just coming in from the stage, sweating and glittering. Dean raised a hand in greeting before turning to the racks and racks of costumes. “Hey, is any of this okay to use?”

“Most of it.” Matty answered. “What’s the matter, don’t like the way I deck you out?”

“No offense, dude, just need something…a little different.” Dean picked through the assorted bits of clothing until his hand found something made of soft, supple leather. He pulled them out and held them up to check the sizing. “What about these?”

Matty turned from the mirror where he was wiping his face. “Hey, I didn’t realize Jonas left those. You think they’ll fit?”

Dean shrugged, an idea forming in his head. “Your sound guy got any AC/DC or Metallica?”

“Probably.”

Dean grinned. “Get him to pick something for me.”

He still wasn’t comfortable with the situation, but his father had taught him that you take care of your family, and if this is what it took, this is what he would do. He dressed in his g-string and the leather pants, which fit like they’d been made for him, smoothing a hand down the snaps along the seams as he crossed to the mirrors. He brushed down his face and chest with powder, then spotted a black eyeliner pencil.

He smirked and lifted it, carefully lining both eyes above and below, murmuring thanks to Penny Aberton and her broken arm the school year before. She’d taught him to put her make up on for her, and paid him with the most amazing blow jobs. He borrowed some hair gel from Jay’s spot and mussed up his hair, then turned to Jay who was just sitting down.

“That your jacket?”

Jay frowned at him. “Yeah, why?”

“Can I borrow it?”

“Promise I get it back?”

Dean grinned and snagged the jacket, pulling it on over a tight white t-shirt that was thin and easy to tear.

“Last night, he made his debut here on our stage, tonight he’s back to strut his stuff, everyone make welcome Sweet Ride Mustang!”

The first notes of “Back in Black” rocked through the house and Dean stepped through the curtain, already sweating under the leather. The lights were hot as he strutted out to center stage with his feet bare. He gyrated to the music, as if he was alone in the world for the first few lines, then looked up, his eyes sweeping the faceless shadows that made up the audience.

The only person he could see clearly was at the end of the runway, a well dressed man on approach to middle age. Dean dropped the jacket and ran his hands down his thighs as he squatted down, then pulled his hand up over his groin, onto his stomach and up to the collar of his shirt.

He tugged on the shirt, pretending to struggle with it, then tearing it open, earning a bout of standing applause from those closest to him. He turned, shaking his ass as he shredded the shirt, then moved down to the end of the runway.

The leather was making the show for him, his ass filling out the seat of the pants like they were skin more than clothing. He ran both hands over his ass as he bent forward, leaning a shoulder into the pole and sliding his hands down the backs of his legs, down to his ankles where he worked the first few snaps open.

Middle-age Guy was definitely interested, Dean could see him leaning forward. He moved his hips, bent his knees and gripped the pants near the ankles, waiting for just the right second in the song to stand and pull, popping the snaps and leaving him there in his g-string, ass out at Middle-age Guy.

He turned, grinning down at the man, who had money in his hand now. Dean danced closer, thrusting his hips forward to accept the tip. The older man raised an eyebrow and stepped back. In his place came a few others, money out, hands sliding over whatever skin they could reach as Dean moved to the song for them.

The music ended and Dean looked back at his target, winking and licking his lower lip before he tossed the pants over one shoulder and strutted his way back up the runway. He paused near the jacket, bending over slowly to pick it up, then dragging it behind him as he exited.

He ducked behind the curtain and started pulling the money from the string of his g-string. “Not bad, new guy.” Jay said, taking his jacket back. “Next time, drag your own pants, not my jacket.”

Dean chuckled and collapsed onto a chair, counting out his money. Not bad was right, the dance had garnered him almost eighty bucks. Another one like that and they’d be set to get the heat turned on.

 

 

 

He was shoving the night’s take into the pocket of his jeans when Matty slapped his shoulder. “Hey, boss wants to see you.”

Dean stifled the yawn and grabbed his jacket. “Office?”

Matty nodded and Dean headed out to find Charlie. “You wanted to see me?”

Charlie waved him in, his eyes on a monitor on his desk. Dean could see one of the dancers in a small room…but he wasn’t dancing. “Hold on, just want to make sure…” Charlie didn’t look up until the man with the dancer finished and stood back. When he had walked out of range o the camera, Charlie gestured. “Close the door.”

“You did good tonight.” Charlie said when Dean was sitting. “I was impressed. And I wasn’t alone.”

“Oh?” Something in his tone had Dean nervous. Or maybe it was that he had just watched someone getting fucked on camera.

“One of our regulars took a shine to you. He had to leave tonight, but he’ll be back tomorrow. He’s already paid for a private dance.”

Dean shifted. “By private…you mean…what exactly?”

Charlie gestured at the monitor. “Private room.”

Dean shook his head. “I’m not…interested.”

“I wasn’t asking.” Charlie said, his tone turning a little colder. “You want to work here, that’s part of the job.”

“I ain’t…dancing’s one thing.” Dean started to stand, only to find a heavy hand on his shoulder. He didn’t know when the bouncer had come in, but his hand was hard, his fingers digging into Dean’s shoulder.

“Let me explain what is going to happen here Dean.” Charlie stood, coming around to lean on the front of his desk. “You are going to dance tomorrow night and after your dance, you’re going to go into the private room. You’re going to take off the g-string, you’re going to bend over and you’re going to take whatever Mr. Evans offers you.”

“Or maybe I’ll go to the cops.” Dean countered, wincing as those fingers dug into him.

“You could. But let me tell you why you won’t. See, you’re sixteen and you’re alone with a twelve year old brother. You call the cops, and they’ll take Sam away, put him in foster care. You too, probably. Then your father might end up getting into trouble for leaving you alone.”

“He was in an accident.” Dean ground out through clenched teeth.

“Oh, yes, he was. But he was also gone for nearly two weeks before that, wasn’t he?”

Dean’s eyes were wide as Charlie laughed. “Oh, yes, Dean. I do my homework.” Charlie stood, his hands sliding around his waistband. “Get up.”

The pressure eased a little and let Dean stand. “Now, I realize you’ve never done this, and so I don’t want to throw you to Evans tomorrow completely unprepared. Which is why I’m gonna fuck you right now.”

“Like hell.” Dean elbowed the guy behind him, but Charlie punched him in the face and the bouncer got Dean’s other arm twisted up behind him.

“Shaun, get him to the desk.”

Dean fought, but Shaun was bigger and stronger and in minutes he had Dean face down on the desk.

“Now, Dean, I don’t necessarily want to hurt you. So, I’m going to give you a choice. Either you take your pants down and let me fuck you, or Shaun and I will fuck you anyway, and while we’re doing you, Spike will be having a go at your little brother. He’s there now, sitting outside your house, waiting for me to call him and tell him to have at it.”

Dean froze, looking up at him, trying to judge if he was serious. “What? You…Sam’s just a kid…”

Charlie smirked. “That’s how Spike likes them.”

This was not happening. Dean struggled against Shaun, but he was already in a compromised position and Shaun just put more of his weight against Dean, pressing him into the desk until the edge was cutting into his stomach.

Charlie had his phone in his hand. "Spike, you ready?"

"Wait." Dean angled his head to get a better look at Charlie.

"You have something to say, Dean?" Charlie asked, holding the phone away from his face.

"Don't….don't hurt Sam."

"Hold on a minute, Spike." Charlie lowered the phone and indicated that Shaun should let Dean up. Dean shook him off and stood upright, exhaling slowly. "Well?"

Dean swallowed. "I have your word he won't touch Sam?"

"You be a good boy and you'll never have to worry about little Sam."

They stared at each other a minute, and as Charlie lifted the phone, Dean's hands went to his zipper. "Okay. All right? Just…" He shook his head, his hands trembling as he unzipped and pushed his jeans down.

"Hang tight, Spike. I'll get back to you."

His stomach twisted and for a second Dean was sure he was going to be sick before he could go through with it. His hands fumbled as he went for his underwear.

"That's good." Charlie said, coming around behind him. "Shaun go around and hold his arms. Don't want him changing his mind once we get started." Shaun let go of his wrist, and Dean nearly bolted as Charlie touched him the first time, his hand smoothing down over Dean's ass as if it belonged to him. He pushed Dean's underwear down further.

Shaun grabbed his wrists from the other side of the desk and Dean tugged trying to get them loose, while Charlie was busy adjusting his legs. "Bend over." Charlie demanded and Dean started to hyperventilate. "Bend over now or Shaun will make you, and we all know where that will lead."

In jerking movements, Dean leaned forward until his stomach was on the desk, still pulling on his hands. Behind him, Charlie petted over his ass, down between his legs to grab his cock. He pulled until Dean yelled, then chuckled. His hands left Dean and when they came back, one steadied his hip, the other went straight to Dean's hole.

A finger circled it, pressing inward after a couple of strokes. Dean bit his tongue to keep from saying anything, to keep the whimpering noises and fear from leaking out of his mouth. He couldn't help the cry that came as Charlie's finger pushed in, however. Fire and pain competed for his attention as Charlie shoved into him, then pulled his finger out. "Damn boy, that is one fucking tight ass. I'm going to enjoy this."

He leaned over Dean and opened the drawer pulling out a bottle of something. He straightened up and there was drop of cold, slick stuff against the burning of his skin, which Charlie then pushed into him with his finger.

Dean closed his eyes and breathed in and out through his nose, trying to distance himself from the pain and humiliation. This couldn't be happening. He wasn't this person…and yet, here he was.

Charlie's fingers moved inside him and Dean's heart raced.

He could do this.

For Sam.

For his father.

The sound of a zipper sounded in the room and then those fingers were gone and there was something bigger and thicker and Dean yelled and yelled as it was pressed in, only a little more lube added than what Charlie had already used.

He breathed out shakily when the pressure eased and Charlie pulled out, but all too soon he was pushing in again. Three strokes and Charlie was laying over Dean's back. "See, not so bad." Charlie said in his ear. "I want you to get used to this feeling. I predict that you're going to make more money like this than you could on the stage."

"I'm no whore." Dean growled through clenched teeth.

Charlie pulled out and shoved himself back in. "Oh, yes you are. You're my whore. I own you."

He started up a rhythm then, fucking Dean into the desk, both hands on Dean's hips tight enough to bruise. It seemed to go on forever, then Dean felt the heat flush as Charlie started to come, pulling out so that the sticky mess slid down Dean's leg.

"Let him up." Charlie stepped back and Shaun let go of him.

Dean pushed himself upright, reaching from his underwear and pulling them up, then going back for his jeans. When he turned, Charlie was sitting in one of the chairs looking up at him. "No more arguing with me. Tomorrow night you do what you're told…and no one has to get hurt. And don't worry, I meant what I said. Like any good whore, you get paid for the cocks I stuff up inside you." He stood, pulling out his wallet and stuffing a hundred dollar bill in Dean's pocket. "Now, you should get home and make sure that little brother of yours is okay."

He wanted to punch him, beat the shit out of him, but Shaun was hovering and Dean knew he couldn't take the bouncer. Instead, he nodded tightly and left the office, walking stiffly, his ass screaming. He got as far as the car before he lost in, doubling over and dry heaving into the dirty snow on the side of the road.

Tears burned his skin in the cold and he wiped at them angrily as he got in the car, trying to find a way to sit that didn't hurt more than if he'd just been beat with his father's belt.

After a few minutes he gave up trying and just starting the car. His face was wet as he pulled in the driveway and got out of his car. Spike waved from his car on the street and pulled away.

Dean ran inside, straight to Sam's bedroom and throwing open the door. Sam sat up, rubbing his eyes and blinking. "Dean?"

"You okay, Sammy?"

"Yeah, you?"

"Go back to sleep."

Dean left him and went to the bathroom, stripping out of his clothes quickly and turning on the shower. He could smell nothing but Charlie's come all over him. He quivered as the hot water hit him, wincing as it washed over the raw skin of his hole. He grabbed soap and lathered up, scrubbing at his skin and turning the hot water up higher and higher until he really couldn't stand the scalding and was forced to turn it off.

He was shaking as he pulled a towel around him and got out of the shower. He wiped down the mirror to check his face. The left cheekbone where Charlie had punched him was red and was probably going to bruise in. He wiped the mirror again as it fogged over, his eyes catching on the bruises coming in around his wrist.

He shivered and turned away. He needed to sleep. He turned, his foot hitting the clothes he'd left on the floor. He bent to pick them up, and the smell of sex hit him square in the face.

He couldn't leave them like that. He gathered them up and all but ran to the kitchen, to the sink, filling it with hot water and bending under to get the laundry soap. He poured way too much of the soap into the running water, dumping the clothes in and scrubbing at them manically. It wasn't until the bubbles were tingling against his chest that he realized what he was doing and stopped himself, turning off the water and leaving the clothes to soak in the strongly scented soapy water.

Dean shuffled to his own bedroom then, still wrapped only in the towel. He crawled up into his bed, drawing the blankets up around his chest and curling into a ball on his side, hoping his ass stopped hurting enough that he could function in the morning, praying he could just go to sleep.

He closed his eyes, but all that did was put him back in that moment, with Shaun squeezing his wrists and Charlie pushing into him. Dean opened his eyes again, staring at the ceiling.

 

 

 

“What happened to you?” Sam asked as Dean shuffled into the kitchen late in the day.

Self consciously, Dean pulled the long sleeves of his shirt down to make sure they covered the bruises from Shaun’s hands. “Bar fight.” Dean grumbled, heading for the fridge. He was starving, which was the only thing that had brought him out of his room where he’d been hiding all day. He just couldn’t face Sam after…even now he couldn’t look at his brother.

He pulled the ham and cheese out and tossed them on the counter, then reached for the bread.

“What is your problem?” Sam asked.

“No problem, Sammy, just tired.”

“I heard you come in, remember?”

Dean froze. “Sorry if I woke you.”

“You checked on me.” Sam sounded amused.

“I check on you every night.” Dean responded. “Have ever since we started sleeping in separate rooms.”

He threw a sandwich together and lifted it, leaning against the counter.

“Should we try calling Pastor Jim?” Sam asked when the kitchen had been quiet for too long. “Or…someone?”

“Who? Who can we call Sam that isn’t going to just get us into more trouble?”

Sam frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

Dean growled his frustration. “Grow up, Sam. We’re two underage kids living alone while our father is in the hospital and we don’t know if he’s even going to wake up. If anyone found out, we’d be screwed.” He blanched and turned away. “More than we are already.”

He heard Sam moving, the chair scraping the bad linoleum. “We’re okay, aren’t we Dean?” Sam asked. “You and me? I mean, you’ve got this job and no one knows you aren’t old enough and we’re okay?”

Dean dropped his sandwich and turned, surprised to find Sam right in front of him. “I…I can’t keep…” He wanted to say he couldn’t keep the job, that he had to quit, but Sam looked actually scared. Instead, he pulled Sam to him. “Yeah, Sam. It’s gonna be fine.”

It was his job to make sure that it would be. Even if that meant…He squeezed Sam tight and put that thought out his head. He had a few hours before he had to think about it. And if he thought about it, there was no way he could go through with it.

 

 

The doorbell rang as Dean was putting his shoes on, running late in his attempt to not actually have to go to the club. Sam answered and Dean looked up, surprised to find Shaun there.

“Boss sent me to give you a lift.”

Dean frowned at him. “I have a car.”

“Roads are icy, Boss didn’t want you to…have an accident.”

Dean stood, understanding the unspoken threat. Charlie wanted to make sure Dean wasn’t going to run. He shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out the twenty he’d planned on giving Sam.

“Order a pizza or something.” Sam took the money, looking up at Dean with big, concerned eyes. “I’m fine Sam. Lock up behind me.” He grabbed his coat and headed for the door, but Sam was suddenly there, hugging him. Just as quickly, Sam was gone, dropping into the chair to watch television and Dean slipped his coat on as he moved through the door.

“I wasn’t planning on running.” Dean said as they got into Shaun’s car.

“The boss just wanted to make sure that you understood your place.”

“I understand just fine.” Dean responded.

“You should have Matty help you cover the bruises. He’s good at it.” Shaun glanced at him, then back at the street. “And learn not to fight it so much. I don’t actually enjoy leaving bruises on you.”

“Right, because you’re such a nice guy.” Dean said coldly, looking out the side window.

“Most of the time I am.” Shaun adjusted himself in the seat. “You should remember that I’m the one that gets paid to keep you safe up there on that stage.”

“But I’m fair game off the stage, right?”

Shaun snorted. “Okay, I get your attitude, okay? I do. But there’s coming a day when you’re going to appreciate having me around. Mark my words.”

“Today is not that day.” Dean barely waited for him to park the car before he opened the door and was out. He stormed into the dressing room to start getting ready.

“Someone obviously shit on your cornflakes today.” Matty said as he came in from the bar with a couple of beers in his hand.

“Fuck off.” Dean responded.

“Nice. Here.” He put one of the beers in front of Dean.

“You knew.” Dean said after a long silence.

“Yes, I did.” Matty responded, sitting in a nearby chair and sipping on his beer.

“You could have warned me.”

He snorted and shook his head. “Not if I want to keep my job. And trust me, if I could go anywhere else, I would.” He gestured at the chair by Dean. “Sit down, let me show you how to cover the bruise.”

Dean glowered at him. “Maybe I like the bruise right where it is.”

“It’ll just piss Charlie off.”

“Maybe I don’t care.” Dean sat though, leaning down to start untying his shoes.

Matty leaned in. “Maybe you better start. I’ll tell you from experience, Dean, his threats are not idle. Whatever it is he says he will do, he will.”

Dean frowned at him. “What did he do?”

Matty shook his head and sat back as the room started to fill with other dancers. Dean undressed and got into his costume, then sat in the chair and let Matty cover the bruise on his cheek.

Dancing was more difficult with the impending sexual encounter looming over him, and he was stiff and twitchy and the tips were no where near as good as they had been the night before. All too quickly it was over and Shaun met him as he came off the stage, one big hand wrapping around his upper arm. He led Dean down a corridor and up to a door where Charlie was waiting, a shot of something in his hand.

Dean shook his head, but Charlie shoved it at him. "Drink it, you'll thank me later."

He took the glass and swallowed the whiskey in it, coughing a little. "Now, Mr. Evans knows you're new to this, but he doesn't like disobedience, so do what you're told."

He felt a little ridiculous standing there in just a g-string. He wanted to cross his arms or cover himself somehow. "You understand me, Son?"

Dean inhaled and his whole body tightened up. "Don't call me that. I am not your son."

Charlie's hand came up and grabbed his hair, yanking him close. "No, you're my whore, so get in there and make me some money."

He opened the door and shoved Dean in. He stood for a moment to let his eyes adjust to the low lighting, blinking as he took in the gaudy walls and carpet, the stripper pole set off to one said, the multi-level bench in the corner with places that were perfect for bending someone over and any number of other sexual configurations.

Someone cleared his throat and Dean turned, finding the well-dressed middle-aged guy of the night before. Unconsciously, Dean stepped back away from him, his hands dropping to cover his groin.

"You are even more beautiful up close." He had a vague accent that reminded Dean of the east coast and he stepped out of the shadows, lifting a hand to Dean's face. He had to remind himself not to pull away. "He's right to call you Sweet…but I'm betting you ride more like the Mustang."

Dean tensed and looked away, though he didn't move so much that he escaped that hand. "Relax, Mustang, I'll take it slow."

He almost wanted to tell him he'd rather they got it over with quickly, except he was still sore from the night before and Dean knew enough to know that going too fast could cause damage he couldn't afford.

Evans stepped closer and Dean stepped back, into the wall. He had nowhere to go. Evans loomed over him, a good half foot taller, taking Dean's face in both hands and turning it slightly before kissing him. Dean did his best to keep his mouth closed, but Evans was persistent and his tongue found its way into Dean's mouth.

Dean squirmed, but Evans made it clear that he was going to take his time. He pressed his body against Dean's and let his hands slide down over Dean's shoulders and arms, then around to his ass.

"I am looking forward to fucking this hot ass tonight. It's going to be tight and I'm already hard just thinking about it." He pressed his groin into Dean's hip as if to make his point. Dean clenched his teeth and fought the urge to shove him back.

Evans caressed over Dean's skin, toying with the g-string before tugging on it. "Oh yeah, I like this." One hand pushed the g-string down, the other slipped up through Dean's crack and up to his hole.

Dean hissed and Evans laughed. "So I'm not the first."

He stepped back. "Turn around."

The g-string was around his knees as he did and Dean's hand fell in place to cover himself. Evans was unbuckling his belt and pulling out his already hard cock. Dean tried to look away, as Evans fondled himself. "Move your hand away. I want to see what I paid for."

Dean moved his hands away, clenching his fists.

"Normally, I'd have you get down on your knees and use your mouth to get me ready, but Charlie tells me you're new to this…so I'll give you a pass." He gestured to the bench in the corner. "There's lube over there. Get yourself ready."

Dean wasn't completely sure how to do that, but he stepped out of the g-string and forced himself to move over to the bench. The top shelf had an assortment of packets of lube and a stack of small towels. Dean lifted one and opened it, looking back at Evans who was taking his jacket off.

He was panting as he slicked two of his fingers and turned to face the corner. He couldn't do this if he had to watch Evans get ready to fuck him. Hesitantly, Dean reached behind him for his ass, rubbing over the hole with the slick lube. It was soothing to skin that was still sore.

Dean gritted his teeth and pushed just the tip of one finger in, gasping at the fire that immediately rushed to the spot. "Shit." He leaned forward, forcing himself to keep pushing that finger in even though every instinct in his body screamed at him to pull it out. Pull it out and run like hell.

He could feel Evans behind him and his chest tightened. “You’re going to have to do better than that if you don’t want me to hurt you, boy.”

Dean pulled his finger free and shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t…never…”

Evans snorted behind him. “Charlie told me you were green, didn’t say you were ignorant.”

He could feel the burn in his ears and on his cheeks and there was something very wrong with the fact that he wasn’t sure if he was more ashamed of not knowing or what he was doing.

Evans hand took Dean’s and guided it back to his hole. “Two fingers.” He pushed those fingers in and Dean fought the instinctive reaction to tense up. “In and out to get the lube spread around, then open them up. Push against the sides, until you can get a third finger in.”

Dean’s face was burning as he worked himself open. Behind he heard Evans open a condom wrapper. His hand stopped Dean and pulled Dean’s hand away before dropping to his hip. With both hands on Dean’s hip, Evans nudged his legs open a little further, then slid that hand up his back, pressing him forward.

Dean closed his eyes and held his breath as Evans’ cock touched him, nestling against his ass, then pressing in. He stopped with just the tip inside Dean, hesitating as he readjusted his grip on Dean’s hips. Dean exhaled explosively when Evans shoved inside him with a violent snap of his hips.

With his head pressed against the bench in front of him, Dean counted out the strokes, tears burning the corners of his eyes. His skin was damp with sweat and Evans dragged his one hand through the slick on Dean’s back, his fingers digging in, adding another element of pain.

Disgust churned in his stomach, threatening to come up along with the whiskey and Dean prayed Evans would just finish. Finally, long after Dean had given up counting, Evans grunted and shoved into him, pressing his weight onto Dean as he filled the condom.

He stood slowly, but Dean didn’t move, just leaned against the bench with his eyes closed. He could hear Evans dressing, moving around the room, then coming back to him. His hand stroked over Dean’s skin, up his back to his neck where it tightened and pulled, making Dean stand and turn.

“The only reason you don’t have your ass filled with my come, is that you still have to dance tonight.” He stroked a finger over Dean’s cheek. “When you do, I want you to remember that you’re dancing for me. And when it’s over, I’m going to show you the right way to suck a man’s dick, and spill all over your pretty little face.”

Dean shivered and looked away and Evans finished pulling on his jacket before heading to the door. Dean was alone for a few minutes, time he spent trying to reason out what was happening, but all he could really understand was that it was his fault. He was here like this because he didn’t know how else to provide for his family. He had nothing more to offer than his body.

The door opened and Matty was there, offering him a robe. “I’ll show you where the shower is so you can clean up.”

He pulled on the robe and followed Matty numbly to a shower head mounted over a drain in a back room. He stood under the spray and watched the water pool at his feet before being sucked into the drain.

His father was going to kill him, beat him bloody and leave him on the side of the road.

If he didn’t die first.

And he wasn’t even sure if that thought meant his father or himself.

Dean turned his face into the tepid spray and scrubbed his hands over his skin, trying to erase the feeling of sticky sweat. Somehow he didn’t doubt that Charlie wasn’t above killing, if he thought the threat was high enough.

“Dean, you okay?” Matty’s voice came to him from the doorway.

“Yeah, just…another minute.” Dean’s own voice sounded strange, low and gravelly.

He reached to turn the water off and grabbed at his robe. The dressing room was empty when he came back and Matty had a shot and a beer waiting for him. “Thought Charlie didn’t like drunk dancers?” Dean asked when he found his voice.

“What Charlie doesn’t know…just don’t fall off the stage.”

Dean grabbed the shot and downed, letting the burn ground him and pull him out of his head. He needed to get ready to do the whole damn thing over again. “I got your stuff together.” Matty pointed at the pile of leather on the back table.

“Why you handling me?” Dean asked.

Matty shook his head and sat down. “I’m not. Just trying to help.”

“Yeah, help me right into getting my ass fucked.” Dean growled, reaching for the beer.

“If I’d told you, you would have bolted, and Charlie would have taken it out on me.”

“What’s he got on you?” Dean asked.

Matty shook his head. “It’s better you don’t know. But once I was a lot like you.” He sat back and looked at Dean. “The other guys won’t stay gone for long. Let me offer you a little advice. Just listen and do what you’re told. Don’t talk back, don’t fight. Learn as you go. I know you don’t want to think about it, but the better you get at it, the more control you have.”

“Right, because I control anything here?”

Matty’s smile was tight. “You’d be surprised. When you let yourself play along, when you pretend it’s something you want, you control most of the scene, most of the time. There are some who…well, they just want to beat you down and fuck you, but most are looking for a ride.”

“Well, despite your clever name for me, I am not a horse.” Dean downed half his beer and stood up to go start getting dressed for his next number.

Matty followed him, grabbing his shoulder. “If you want to get through this without getting hurt, or getting your family hurt, you’ll dance your ass off and take the whoring like it’s a good thing. You’ll get paid well when you do, and then maybe you can escape, like Jonas did.”

Escape, at the moment, seemed nearly impossible, but Dean didn’t say that, he just turned and started getting dressed.

The second dance seemed easier somehow, with someone to focus on. Dean left the stage with nearly a fifty dollars in tips. Like before, Shaun was waiting for him, escorting him back to the room.

Evans was waiting, his pants already unzipped, his cock in his hands. "Get on over here, boy…on your knees for me."

Dean licked his lips and took a few hesitant steps, then stopped. Why this should be harder he wasn't sure, but the idea of going to his knees, of letting this man put his cock in Dean's mouth…it terrified him.

Evans was not a patient man though and he tugged, pulling Dean in and shoving Dean down to the floor. "I don't expect you to be good, just open your fucking mouth."

Again, Dean's tongue swiped over his bottom lip. Evans grabbed his face, forcing his thumb into Dean's mouth and using that to press his lips open and holding it open. "My cock likes the way you strut up there." He rubbed the tip of his cock over Dean's lips. "I like knowing you were looking at me, knowing that I was going to do this."

He pushed in, still holding Dean's mouth open, rubbing his cock along Dean's tongue, half way into his mouth and back out, then around his lips again, until Dean's mouth was wet and messy with saliva. "Look at you…panting after my cock…" He pushed into Dean's mouth and pulled his thumb out, sliding his hand back to fist in the short hair at the back of Dean's head.

Evans looked down at Dean as he moved his hips, pressing his cock deeper and deeper into Dean's mouth until Dean was gagging and starting to panic. Evans chuckled and eased out again. "Close your lips around me and suck."

His fingers tightened in Dean's hair, and Dean obeyed as best he could. There was spit sliding out of the corner of his mouth and his eyes were watering. The cock seemed way too big and he couldn't help the gagging as Evans pushed in.

Evans put his hands on either side of Dean's head, holding him in place as he sped up the movement of his hips. He licked his own lips, watching Dean's face. Dean wanted to look anywhere but up at the man, but his choices were up at his face or down at his dick moving in and out of Dean's mouth or to close his eyes.

There was a new taste in his mouth, salt and tang and Evans was pulling out, still holding him in place as his cock spilled, his come painting over Dean's open mouth and onto his cheeks. When his orgasm ended, Evans used his thumbs to smear the cooling come on his skin and into his mouth. "Suck them clean."

Dean flinched, but Evans held him and he used his tongue to lick at the thumbs before sucking each of them into his mouth. Evans pulled them away, doing up his pants. "Get up."

He stood slowly, watching Evans pull on his jacket. He crossed to Dean and held up a folded twenty. He glided it down Dean's chest to where his g-string barely covered his dick. "That's for you. I'll be seeing you, Mustang, you really are a sweet, sweet ride."

Dean waited until he was gone, then moved to the corner for a towel, mopping the come from his face as he all but ran for the dressing room. He'd done his job. All he wanted to do was to go home and shower and brush his teeth until he couldn't taste cock on his tongue any more.

He didn't speak to anyone and he had to fight not to throw up or cry in front of the other guys. He was trembling by the time he got into his own clothes and he clenched his hands into fists to make it stop. He was nearly to the door when his name in Charlie's voice stopped him.

He didn't turn to look. Charlie came up behind him, his fingers catching in Dean's back pocket. "You running out without getting what I owe you?"

Dean twitched, but didn't respond. "Got a stone for you." He held up a few bills folded together. "Fifty dollars for the fucking, plus a little extra, since he got you twice." He reached around Dean and tucked the money in his front pocket. "Take your little brother out for a nice dinner before work tomorrow or something."

"We done?" Dean asked coldly.

"For now." Charlie pulled back and Dean bolted for the door. He stumbled through the alley, stopping just off the street when he was sure he was going to be sick. He bent over, retching against the wall, but nothing came up, leaving him with the taste of cock and come on his tongue.

The cold seeped in under his jacket as he moved out onto the street, and he remembered that he had left the car at home. Shaun was nowhere to be seen. Dean pulled the jacket shut and started the long walk home, chilled well beyond the air around him.


	3. Chapter 3

“Hey.” Sam said as he dropped his books on the chair near the door.

Dean looked up, then at the clock and back at Sam. “You’re home?”

Sam closed the door and peeled off the jacket that was nearly too small for him. “Same time everyday.”

Dean lurched up off the couch, rubbing at his forehead. “I guess I lost track of time.”

Sam was frowning at him. “Doing what?”

Dean shook his head and headed toward his bedroom.

“Dean?”

He stopped, but didn’t turn around. 

“Are you okay?” 

Sam had asked that a lot in the last few days. “Yeah, Sam. Just…tired.” He’d gotten up a few hours before, but he’d been sitting on the couch doing nothing. Nothing but thinking, trying to find a way out of the situation he found himself in.

“Any word from the hospital?”

Dean sighed and shook his head. “No change. I need to shower.”

He left Sam in the living room and went into his bedroom to get his towel. He had a few hours before he had to head to the club, but he wanted to go see his father before. They were planning to operate soon, but there were no promises. 

Dean started the shower and stripped out of his sweats, stepping in under the spray. It was hard to believe it had only been a week since their desperation had driven him to take the job. He shuddered and reached for the soap. It didn’t matter how many showers he took anymore, and he knew he was doing it compulsively, several times a day. He never felt clean.

He scrubbed himself down and rinsed off, standing a few minutes longer in the hot water. Sam knocked on the door as Dean was turning off the water. “Dean, phone. It’s Pastor Jim.”

Relief flushed through him and he wrapped a towel around him before opening the door and reaching for the phone. “Pastor Jim.”

“Can’t talk long, Dean. I got your messages. You boys okay?”

Dean exhaled. “Yeah, we…we’re getting by. Dad’s…well, he’s still in the hospital.”

“I know, I already talked to the doctor there. Listen, it’s going to be a few days before I can get to you. I can send Caleb, but he’s not a lot closer.”

Dean shook his head. “No, no. It’s okay. I’m…I have a job. I’m making it work.” He hoped he didn’t sound as desperate and freaked out as he actually was. He could get through this, until his father was well enough for them to leave town. That was what he told himself every time he walked into the club, every time he danced, every time he got shoved into that private room to bend over and take some guy’s cock up his ass or in his mouth. 

“Dean?”

“Yeah, sorry.” He shook his head. “Just get here when you can. We’ll be okay until then.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, tired.” Dean responded, despite Sam glaring at him.

“Okay, a few days.”

Dean hung up the phone and headed for the bedroom to get dressed. “Don’t you have homework or something?”

Sam followed him into the bedroom though. “You going to tell me what’s really going on?”

Dean pulled jeans and a t-shirt out of his dresser and threw them on the bed. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, Sammy.” 

“Sam.”

“Whatever. You want me to make you dinner before I go?”

“You going in early?” 

“No, gonna go see Dad.” Dean dropped his towel and pulled his jeans on. 

“Ouch.” Sam said, reaching for Dean’s hip. His fingers found the bruises from the fingers that had held him too tightly before Dean got the jeans all the way up. “What happened?” 

“Nothing.” Dean pushed him away and buttoned his jeans. “Just some rough housing last night. It’s fine.” He pulled the t-shirt on and went back to the dresser for socks.

“I’ll just have spaghettios later.”

“Fine.” 

“Fine.”

Sam stared at him for a minute, then turned and left the room. Dean sighed and sat on the bed to put on his socks and shoes. Just a few more days and Jim would be there. Dean could give up playing father for a while.

 

Dean prepared himself mentally before pushing open the door of his father’s hospital room. Every time he saw his father he was reminded just how bad it really was. 

To his surprise, what he found was Dr. Havilan and a nurse talking. To his father. Who was awake. “Oh.” Dean stopped in the doorway as Dr. Havilan looked at him.

“Dean, I was going to call you as soon as I got back to my office.”

Dean ignored him though, coming to the side of the bed, his eyes on his father’s gaunt face. John Winchester smiled, though it turned into a grimace and his eyes closed briefly. “Dad?”

He slipped his hand into his father’s and was rewarded with a squeeze. 

“His last test results showed significant improvement, so we’ve been bringing him up slowly.” Dr. Havilan said.

Dean nodded, his eyes skipping over his father’s face.

“We’re going to leave the breathing tube in for the moment, but if it all goes well, we’ll pull that later tonight.”

Dean glanced at the doctor. “When…I mean…I’m not sure what I should be asking here.”

Havilan smiled and closed the chart in his hands. “Why don’t we give you a few minutes with your father, but just a few minutes. He’s still on heavy pain medication and he needs his rest.”

The doctor and the nurse withdrew and Dean pulled the stool closer to the bed, straddling it without letting go of his father’s hand. “Wow, you really had me scared, Dad.” Dean said softly. 

John squeezed his hand and Dean looked up, blinking at unexpected tears. “We’re okay. Sam and me. I…well, um…I’ve got a job sorta…enough to feed us and get the heat turned on.” Dean had to look away, suddenly feeling like he was Sam’s age and his father would see through the lies. “I mean, I had to drop school…but Sam, he’s good. And, um…I’ll bring him to see you tomorrow.”

He exhaled and looked up, but his father’s eyes were closing. Dean stood, leaning in to press a kiss to his father’s forehead. “I promise. We’ll both come tomorrow.” He slipped his hand free and let himself out into the hallway. Dr. Havilan was only steps away. “He’s asleep.”

“Good. I have to say, I’m cautiously optimistic that we won’t have to operate. Your father still has a long way to go, but this improvement is heartening.”

“So, his back is better?”

“He’s still in a lot of pain, but yes the swelling that was concerning me has started to diminish and he’s showing pain responses in all of his extremities, so that is very good.”

"That's the first good news I've had in a while." Dean said, relief filling him. Pastor Jim was on his way and his father was better. But he still had to deal with Charlie. He bit his lip. "I have to get to work, but I'll be back tomorrow."

He left the hospital and headed for the club. If he just stopped showing up, Charlie would send Spike and Shaun to get him. If he explained that he would be quitting…well, honestly, Dean didn't know what he would do. But as long as Sam was alone while Dean was out, he wasn't going to risk it.

He'd play along until Jim showed. Then he'd figure out a way to shake Charlie.

It was starting to snow again as he parked down the street from the club. He sat in the car for a few minutes like he did every night. It got harder and harder to get out of the car knowing what was waiting for him inside that club.

The dancing was bad enough…seven nights he'd come here and taken his clothes off on stage. Six of those nights he'd been bent over and fucked like a whore after. The night before had been bad. He'd been in the private room more than he'd been on stage. Five men in the space of six hours.

Dean's ass clenched at the thought of more. And it was Friday, the loudest, rowdiest night according to Matty. He closed his eyes and reminded himself it was for Sam. He could tell from what Matty didn't say that Charlie would follow through on his threat, he would send Spike to hurt Sam.

He opened the door of the car and stepped out, inhaling the cold winter air and pulling himself together. It was like stepping into another person. He put on cocky and arrogant like a jacket and headed to the club, into the alley that took him to the dressing room entrance. 

Dean nodded at the man standing guard at the door and let himself in, blowing on cold hands as he slipped into the quiet dressing room. He was early, but it gave him time to work himself up to his first dance, which would lead to his first fucking, he was sure. 

He got as far as the mirror he'd taken as his own when he heard yelling. He frowned and followed the noise out to the front of the house. Shaunand two other big guys were standing over someone on the floor and Charlie was raging.

"You don't fuck with me, Matthew. I thought we'd talked about this."

Dean's eyes tracked to the body on the floor, startled to realize it was Matty. "And now you make a mess on my floor and I got no one to take your place tonight."

Matty struggled to sit up, his face bloody, his nose broken. It looked like one of his legs was too. "Charlie…I didn't say no…I just…" Shaun fisted a hand in his hair and Matty stopped.

"Winchester." 

Dean started at the sound of his name, and realized belatedly that he had stepped out enough to be seen. Charlie was beckoning him closer. Dean crossed behind the tables to the front.

Matty was looking at him, shaking his head, but Charlie snapped his fingers to get Dean's attention. "You're taking Matty's place tonight." 

Dean dared a glance at Matty and back. "Matty isn't on the schedule tonight."

"He was booked for a special gig. Spike, get this piece of trash off my floor and clean up his mess. Shaun, you're handling Dean. I'll get Rook to handle the door."

"Wait, what…what special gig?" Dean asked, even as Shaun was grabbing his arm.

Charlie turned back to look at him. " Private party. Shaun will explain in the van."

"Van? Wait." Dean pulled his arm free. Charlie was coming back toward him, his face hard. 

"We gonna have a problem, Dean?"

"No, no problem." Dean held up his hands. "I just…"

"I would hate to have to send Spike over to check on Sammy when he's done taking out the trash."

Dean swallowed and backed off a step. Charlie reached out and adjusted the zipper on Dean's jacket. "Besides, a gig like this pays more, so relax, and have fun."

"Right. Fun." Dean turned away, right into Shaun. It was easy to see there was no way out of whatever this gig was, though judging from the way Charlie was acting, Dean could take a fair guess.

Shaun grabbed his arm and dragged him out the back, shoving him into the back of a van. Shaun followed him and shut the door. There was a black curtain blocking off the driver's seat from view and the only window was painted black. Black carpeting softened the hard floor and the only thing back there was a trunk that Shaun opened. 

"Naked."

He didn't look to make sure Dean obeyed, but Dean had seen what they'd done to Matty and he knew Shaun wouldn't hesitate to hurt him. He pulled his jacket off, then his shirt, shivering a little in the cold.

"When you're done, put these on." Shaun tossed a pair of black leather shorts at him. "Then sit down and be quiet. If you try to see where we're going, move that curtain or speak I will beat your stupid ass. Am I clear?"

"Yeah, clear." 

The van rocked as Shaun made his way to the front and Dean was still kicking his shoes off when the van lurched forward. He grabbed the side wall to keep from falling, then went for his zipper. His hands were shaking when he finally got down to naked and started to pull on the shorts.

They weren't exactly built to cover anything. They had a slit where the zipper should be and a hole over his asshole. So, he wasn't wrong about what kind of gig this was meant to be.

Great.

He got the shorts on and adjusted himself, then tried to find a comfortable way to sit while they drove. He had no concept of where they were headed, which was probably the point of making him undress while Shaun drove. 

Finally they came to a stop and Shaun came back through the curtain. Dean stood, ducking his head to keep from smacking it on the roof.

"You gonna tell me what's—"

Shaun backhanded him across the face. "I said no talking. Bend over." Shaun shoved him at the side wall and pushed him until he was bending over, then Shaun was shoving a finger into him.

"Hey!"

Shaun punched him in the side, then went back to prepping Dean's ass with his fingers and lube. "Knees." 

Dean turned and knelt, licking his lips. Shaun lifted a black cloth and shook it out, then folded it and used it to cover Dean's eyes. Dean stiffened, but didn't speak. He wasn't ready to get hit again. Once he was blindfolded, Shaun grabbed his hands and pulled them behind his back. 

Dean heard the definitive sound of handcuffs getting locked, then Shaun's hot breath was on his ear.

"I am going to walk you in there and put you on your knees. You will do whatever you are told. You will be a good boy and you will lick and suck and take it up the ass until they're done with you."

They. Dean swallowed hard.

"They may hit you or kick you or anything up to drawing blood or breaking bone. I will be watching. If any of them break the rules I will break them. Am I clear?"

Dean nodded, licking his lips nervously.

The door opened and he was shoved out, his bare feet hitting concrete. "Move."

He stumbled a little and Shaun shoved him, keeping him off balance, but with a hand on his arm to keep him from falling. Dean could hear traffic in the distance, and the cold made his skin tighten. Then they were moving inside and the air warmed. The concrete under his feet gave way to something softer, then carpet.

“This isn’t our usual boy,” a voice said nearby as Shaun pulled him to a stop.

“This is Mustang, your usual boy had an accident.”

“Too bad for him, nice for us. Look at that mouth.” A thumb ran over Dean’s lip, then fell away. “Take him in, I’ll let the boys know the party is starting.”

Shaun pushed him and Dean moved, through a narrow door. Ten halting steps from the door, Shaun stopped him, his hand moving to his shoulder and pressing. Dean hesitated at first, but as Shaun’s fingers tightened, he bent his knees, sinking to the floor. 

The carpet was soft at least, better than concrete or tile, though it felt dirty and he didn't want to think about that. He focused on breathing, on listening. Shaun had moved away, Dean couldn’t even feel him hovering. In the background he could hear music, like it was down the hall with several closed doors between him and it. Then there are voices. Several.

He tried to listen to them, figure out how many, but they came too quickly, surrounding him, all talking together. “See, I told you,” the voice from earlier says. “Charlie’s been holding out on us.”

“Oh, yeah, buddy…I’m going to like the way those lips look around my cock.” Two hands took Dean’s head, thumbs pressing against his lips until he opened them enough to get inside. Those thumbs pressed down, forcing Dean’s mouth open and he heard a zipper.

“Hey, birthday boy gets first pick, dumbass.”

The hands left him and Dean shifted as he felt them crowd around him. “Come on, what’s it gonna be?”

So far he could make out at least four different voices. “I’ve seen his mouth, show me his ass.” Okay, five. A hand pushed him forward, pressing his face into the dirty carpet and forcing his ass up. “Oh, yeah, that’s what I want. Hold him down like that.”

He closed his eyes behind the blindfold and waited for the touch. Hands grabbed his hips and a foot pushed against his feet, forcing him to spread them apart more. There was no prep or warning, just the head of a cock forcing itself into his hole. 

Dean exhaled and tried to relax, tried not to buck and thrash. He inhaled slowly. The cock pushing into him was thick and had to ease back and come again, taking three strokes to actually get all the way inside him. 

“Oh yeah, happy birthday to me….this one’s tight. Ain’t ya, whore?” He laid across Dean’s back and rocked his hips.

“You gonna fuck him or sweet talk him?”

The guy laughed and pushed back, holding Dean’s hips now as he thrust in. He set a pretty fast pace, to the cheers and commentary of the others and as he got ready to come, he pulled out, dumping his load on Dean’s back. “Yeah, gonna want some more of that before we send him home.”

“Wait your turn man. I’m next.”

Before Dean could even think about adjusting his position, the hand holding his head down pulled him up instead. His mouth was pushed open and filled with cock. He tried to focus, do more than just take the thrusting, but on the third stroke there was someone behind him and he was getting fucked from both sides.

Panic flared inside him and he struggled to get his hands loose, to pull away, but as he pulled his head back, it only pushed him onto the cock behind him, and if he pulled away from that, it got the cock in front of him shoved deeper into his mouth.

He couldn’t stop the whimper, the fear that flushed his body. Hands tightened in his short hair and pulled him forward. Then there was come on his face, smeared onto his lips. He was unprepared for the fist that connected with his face, and only the hands holding his hips in place kept him from falling.

Another cock took the place of the one that left its load on his face and the one in his ass pulled out to paint his back with hot, sticky strings. “Oh fuck, this mouth…I’m gonna make him swallow.”

Dean tried to pull away but he was held in place by more hands than he could count as he was fucked faster and harder and then the cock was shoved in deep, past his gag reflex, his head held tight as the man came and he was forced to swallow. 

He was dropped once the man was done and he fell face first into the carpet, unable to stop himself with his hands cuffed behind him. He coughed and groaned, his stomach threatening to throw up. 

“You like that, whore?” A foot connected with his ass, the booted heel digging into the left cheek as he was shoved forward. He rolled, groaning as his shoulder slammed into the floor and he ended up on his back, his cuffed hands under him, tilting his hips up. “Look, he wants more. Go on, Duck, he’s all yours.”

Dean stiffened and put his feet on the floor, trying to push himself up or over or something, but once again, hands found him, grabbing his knees and spreading him open. It was different like this somehow, knowing the man’s face would be above his, that if he wasn’t blindfolded he would have to see the man.

The angle was different too and as a longer dick than the others pushed into him, it found new places to press into. Dean’s stomach tightened and his cock flushed with heat. “No,” he groaned, as the man fucking him nailed his prostate and Dean’s cock responded by hardening. 

“Oh, yeah…he likes it, the little fucker.”

A hot hand circled his cock and Dean whimpered as it pulled and the cock inside him kept hammering away until Dean’s ass flooded with hot and wet, and Dean was left with the hand jacking him slowly.

“You getting this?” someone asked.

Dean closed his legs, rolled away, but he was hit hard across the face and his legs spread open while that hand kept pumping his cock. “You gonna come, little fuck?”

Dean clenched his body tight, imagined dead things and his injured father, anything to kill the erection, but his body betrayed him and he came with a gasp, wetting his stomach.

"The other guy never came when we fucked him," one of them said, his voice near Dean's head. 

A finger dragged through the come on his stomach, then the finger was being shoved into his mouth. The taste of his own come coated his tongue as they laughed. A hand grabbed his cock, and Dean whimpered. 

"I'm ready for another go, get him on his knees." 

Dean was poked and prodded until he was on his knees, then yanked back until there was a cock pushing into his already aching ass. Someone moved his legs until his feet were pressed to the outside of the man's knees and he was pulled back, forcing the cock up inside him and leaving him basically sitting on it.

"All right whore, show me how much you like having my cock in your ass."

Dean didn't understand, but then there were hands on his hips, pushing him up and shoving him back down. He felt himself flush red, but managed to flex his hips and slide up the cock, then back down.

His hands were in the way of getting all of it inside him. That didn't seem to matter. After a few minutes, it was obvious that Dean wasn't doing enough. He was shoved forward, back onto the rug and the man grunted as he fucked him harder and harder.

When it was over, Dean was left there, on his knees. He could still hear them. They were drinking and talking. He rolled to his side, wondering if it was done now, if Shaun would take him out of there.

Of course, that would be too easy. It was only a few minutes before he was being pulled on again. They were slower after that, but they kept at him steadily. He lost count of how many times. In between fuckings they slapped him, pushed him around the rug until he had burns on both knees and one shoulder. He stopped fighting, just let them pull and prod him into place, just willing it to be over.

He dozed off when it seemed it had been a while since they'd touched him, and started when hands touched him again.

"Easy, time to go." Shaun. Dean let Shaun get him up, but couldn't make his feet work. Shaun lifted him and carried him out to the van, laying him down in the back. The van started moving and after a short drive, it stopped. Shaun knelt beside him and rolled him on his side. The hand cuffs came off and Shaun eased Dean's arms out from behind his back.

His shoulders screamed and his thighs trembled with the pain of moving. Shaun pulled the blindfold off and Dean blinked up at him.

"My payment for supervising these little outings is that I get a go with you once it's over. But I don't like the mess those boys leave behind. We're going into this room and you're going to clean up first."

Dean just nodded, no fight left in him. Shaun got him standing and together they moved slowly into a motel room. Shaun took him into the bathroom and got the shower started, then helped Dean get the sticky leather shorts off.

"Need help?"

Dean shook his head and waited until Shaun had left the room before he climbed slowly into the shower. The water was hot, but weak and for a long time he just stood under the spray, letting it wash over him. There was come dried on his skin, in his hair. The taste of it filled his mouth.

Some sound reminded him that he wasn't alone and he looked around before reaching for the cheap motel soap. He scrubbed at his skin, wincing as his hand swiped over his ass. The skin was stretched and raw and come still oozed from him. He held his cheeks open and let the water flow down his crack.

He moved slowly, his body protesting each movement. He was going to hurt worse come morning. There was a bruise starting to bloom on one side of his chest and down his side. He rolled his shoulders slowly, stiff and tight from laying on them with his hands bound behind him.

He could hear Shaun in the bedroom, sounds that made Dean think he was getting impatient. He turned off the water and stepped out, reaching for a towel. He dried himself off and wrapped the towel around his waist, opening the door and peeking into the bedroom. 

Shaun looked up from near the dresser. He immediately held out a glass with what looked like whiskey in it. “Here, I brought in some Tylenol too. You should take some.”

“Thanks.” Dean took the glass and the bottle of Tylenol and went to sit on the bed, setting the glass down to get the pills open. He dumped three into his hand and tossed them back, chasing them with a healthy swallow of the whiskey.

Shaun came toward him and Dean rubbed his hands on the towel, looking up at him and nodding. “Relax, let me look at you.” Shaun said, tilting the lamp shade so that more of the light hit Dean’s face. Shaun’s fingers were gentle as they explored Dean’s cheekbone, then up around his eye. “Well, you’re going to bruise, but it won’t be too bad. Lift your arm.” His fingers moved over each of his ribs, from the center of his chest to his side.

Dean hissed as he poked into the mottled skin. 

“Sorry. Nothing’s broken. How are your shoulders?”

Dean frowned at him, uncertain why he was being nice. “They hurt.”

“That position couldn’t have been comfortable. Drink your whiskey, I’ve got something that might help.” 

Shaun went back to the dresser, then into the bathroom as Dean finished the whiskey in his glass. Shaun came back with a brown bottle, a wet washcloth and a bottle of lube. He gestured for Dean to get up and pulled the comforter and sheet down. “Lay down.” 

Dean did as he was told, the towel dropping to the floor as he moved. He lay in the middle of the bed, pulling pillows to him. To his surprise, Shaun sat next to him, his hands rubbing over Dean’s shoulders. “Relax, you’re tensing up.”

“I’m naked in a motel room after just getting gang banged by five guys. You’d be tense too.” Dean said.

Shaun chuckled. “I suppose you’re right. How about this, I’m not going to hurt you, I only want to help make it feel better, okay?” He lifted the brown bottle. “It’s liniment. My brother’s a boxer. Well, was a boxer. He says it helps.” 

He poured a little bit out on his fingers and rubbed his hands together before reaching for Dean’s shoulders. His thumbs caressed in circles over tight, sore muscles, getting gradually harder and deeper. Dean groaned as he moved up and out, working all of the tight spots. He actually found the tension in his body releasing as Shaun’s fingers moved over his skin, gentle near the bruising, a little harder over muscle, sweeping down his back and up again.

The bed moved, but Dean was nearly asleep and couldn’t bring himself to look up. He heard Shaun undress, then the bed dipped again and Shaun moved so that he was straddling over Dean’s legs. Still, his fingers were gentle, smearing lube carefully over the raw skin, soothing and cool. Dean closed his eyes and fought the desire to crawl away. Shaun’s finger eased into him, then there was more lube and a second finger, but instead of feeling like he was prepping Dean, it was like he was trying to make the burn of the night’s abuse go away.

By the time he moved, taking his fingers out and replacing them with his dick, Dean almost didn’t even feel him. Shaun lay over him for a long time, his cock filling Dean up but not moving. When he did finally move, it was slow and easy. Neither of them moved or spoke. The bed rocked with them and Dean could almost will himself away.

When Shaun was done, he didn't pull out so much as he rolled them to the side, his hand petting over Dean's chest as he pulled him close, like they were lovers, and this a quiet night together.

Dean kept his eyes closed and let the exhaustion pull at him until he dozed off, lulled by Shaun's gentle caress and the self-delusion that this was somehow better than it really ever could be.

 

"Your clothes are on the bed." Shaun said, his voice gruff and pulling Dean up out of the half-asleep stupor that wasn't really restful, but gave him time away from the dull pain of his reality. "You got five minutes."

Shaun left the room and Dean sat up stiffly. There wasn't much that didn't hurt and it made getting dressed a slow and painful process. He was just putting his shoes on when Shaun came back into the room. "Van's warmed up." Shaun came around the bend and slipped an arm around Dean's waist to help him up.

"I got it." Dean said and Shaun backed off.

"Just helping."

"Yeah, I'm fine." He was fine too. He repeated it in his head as he moved stiffly out of the room. A blast of frigid air greeted him and he slipped a little on the ice, but Shaun was there to catch him and kept his hand on Dean's elbow all the way to the van. 

"You can sit up front now, just can't let you see the location of the gig." He held the door while Dean struggled up into the seat. Once Dean was buckled in, Shaun closed the door and went around to the driver's side.

In minutes they were pulling up beside Dean's car.

"Boss told me to tell you he's giving you tomorrow night off, but expects to see you Sunday night." He held up a wad of money. "This is your cut for tonight."

Dean took it, shoving it into his pocket without counting it. He wasn't sure he wanted to know how much that ordeal was worth.

"You okay getting home?"

Dean nodded and gathered himself for the effort of getting out of the car. The air felt colder as he fumbled with his keys and got the door open. He groaned as he sat on the cold seat, his ass protesting. The engine started and heat poured out of the vents. For a long time, Dean just sat there, letting the heat soak into him, though it didn't touch the chill inside him.

Finally, he pulled out and started for the house. 

It was only a little after one in the morning when he pulled in, but it felt so much later, like he'd dug graves with his father all night. He headed into the house, dropping his jacket in the living room and making for the bathroom.

He showered again, scrubbing at skin that he was half certain reeked of come until the water ran cold. He toweled off and pulled his sweat pants off the back of the door, then wiped down the mirror. 

His cheek was bruising in. By morning he was going to have a black eye too. He turned, lifting his arm to get a look at his side. "Shit." He poked a finger at the spreading bruise, and his eyes caught on his wrist, which was bright red with black and purple spots. He was going to have to hide the bruises from Sam. Or come up with some story. 

Sighing, Dean turned and opened the bathroom door, jumping when Sam was on the other side. "Shit."

Sam rubbed at his eyes and started to push past him, then stopped, his eyes opening and widening. "What happened?"

Dean shook his head and tried to step out into the hallway. "Nothing. Do your business."

Sam's hand caught his arm and stopped him. "Dean, I'm not stupid."

He sighed again and pulled his hand free. "It's nothing Sam. There was a fight. I got caught up in it."

Sam's hand lifted to Dean's face, but Dean pulled away. "I'm fine, just a little sore." He licked his lips and decided to distract him. "Dad's better. They brought him out of the sedation. We're going to see him later."

Sam stepped back, blinking. "Really?"

"Yeah, he opened his eyes, and I got to talk to him a little. It's still…the doctor's saying it's still going to be a while, but he's hopeful." Dean stepped back further, turning toward his bedroom. "So, get your ass back to bed. Don't want him thinking I'm not taking care of you."

 

They got to the hospital during afternoon visiting hours, Dean leading Sam to their father's room. The breathing tube was gone, and John's eyes opened as Sam touched him.

Dean hung back a bit, taking in the thin face and the IV still running down to his hand. It was better. But it still wasn't good. Sam was talking at top speed, trying to tell their father everything that had happened in the last three weeks all at once. 

"Breathe, Sam." Dean said, stepping away from the door. "You don't have to cram it all into the first thirty seconds."

"Hey." His father's voice was scratchy and hoarse, but filled with a warm affection Dean didn't remember hearing often. He lifted a hand and pointed at Dean's face. "What happened?"

Dean shrugged it off as he sat on the side of the bed. "No big thing, just some rowdy guys blowing off steam last night. I got in the way."

"That's nothing, you should see his side." Sam said.

"Thanks Sam, that's helpful." Dean shook his head. "I'm fine."

"He keeps saying that." Sam stuck his tongue out at Dean. "Did he tell you he's working in a bar?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "I wash glasses and bus tables."

"In a bar." Sam said.

"Dean." John made a face and swallowed, then put his hand on Dean's knee. "I'm proud of you, Son."

Dean smiled at him. "See, Sam?"

"Don't get cocky." Sam responded. 

"Well, I've got the night off, so we're here until they kick us out." Dean covered his father's hand with his own. "We've missed you."

John smiled at him, then at Sam. Dean let Sam resume his rambling about school and the snow and whatever else the kid was on about. He was content just to sit there and know that his father was going to be all right and soon he would be free of Charlie and his goons.


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey, Mustang."

Dean looked up from the job of covering the last of the bruises on his wrist. Shaun was leaning on the door of the dressing room. "What?"

"Brought you something."

Dean frowned at him and went back to dabbing make-up over his wrist. "Unless it's pretty girl who wants to suck my cock, I'm not interested."

Shaun came closer, shoving one of the other dancers out of his way. "Actually, it's just something to make that less work." He waved a hand at Dean's wrist. In that hand were two leather bands, thick enough to cover the marks the handcuffs had made. 

Dean put down the make-up sponge and took the black leather from him. "Thanks." He settled one over the half covered wrist and snapped it shut. It was a perfect fit. 

Shaun smiled. "See, I knew they'd look great on you."

Dean didn't know why Shaun was giving him gifts, but it beat the usual crap he got from the bouncer. 

"I hear Charlie's giving you extra dances tonight."

"Yeah, well, someone's gotta cover for Matty, right?" Dean said, picking up the make-up sponge again to touch up the covering on the bruise on his side. 

"Means more money, especially with the way you've been dancing lately."

Dean frowned harder. "No offense, dude, but seriously, do you want something?"

"Fuck you, man. I'm just trying to be nice."

"Cause you're a nice guy." Dean said, standing. 

"I try to be."

Dean stepped in closer to him and dropped his voice. "Look, I appreciate the gesture, and these are cool, really. But I…" He stopped himself and licked his lips. He didn't need to be pissing this guy off. "I need to focus on getting ready. Can we talk later?"

Shaun smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I'd like that."

"Good."

"I gotta get out to the door anyway."

Dean sighed as he walked away and set about finishing up. His face was much better and required a lot less work than the first few days after his special gig. Things had been okay, his father looked better every day, his nights hadn't been bad and he'd made decent money.

The dancing part was getting easier. He was more relaxed with it and he could almost forget the rest while he was on stage. And the rest had been slow since Friday night.

Pastor Jim would be showing up the next day, and with any luck the hospital would be releasing his father by the end of the week. He'd even stood on his own for a few minutes that afternoon, though he hadn't yet taken any steps without help. 

He was going to survive this.

Four dances and nearly three hundred dollars later, Dean was changing back into his own clothes. It was the first night since his first that he hadn't had a single trip to the back room. Not that he was complaining.

There had been a group of young guys throwing around money that had tipped him well and the crowd had been much more civilized than usual. It was nearly two in the morning as he let himself out into the alley and headed for the car.

He had parked a few blocks away because the spots closer had all been taken and as he trudged through the snow, he got a feeling like he was being followed.

"Hey, Mustang." He stopped and turned. Three guys were coming at him, guys he vaguely recognized from the club. They had come in a few times, never tipped and usually heckled the dancers until Charlie had them thrown out.

"Look guys, it's late, and I'm tired." He turned around and kept walking. 

"Hey! I'm talking to you."

Dean stopped when a hand caught his shoulder. "I don't want any trouble."

"Too bad for you." They moved in around him. "We just want a private little dance, Mustang." The speaker pulled out his wallet. "How much?"

"Look, guys…you want a dance, talk to Charlie. I don't freelance."

The biggest of the three stepped in close and Dean stepped back. He found his back pressed against the wall of the adult bookstore, surrounded. "Maybe we'll just get one for free."

Dean swallowed hard. He wasn't talking his way out of this. "There's no need to get violent." His hands fisted at his side, ready to do exactly that though as a hand grabbed his dick.

"I heard you like it rough," one of them said.

Dean punched the big guy in the stomach and bolted, but one of them caught him around the stomach and threw him into the wall. He kicked and hit, but he was out numbered and when one of them hit him in the ribs, he heard it before he felt it, falling and gasping for air.

He was being dragged into the alley, still fighting weakly as hands pulled at his jeans, then suddenly one pair of hands was gone. He curled up in a ball, covering his head as feet kicked at him, then there was a thud and yelling.

He looked up to find Shaun beating down the big guy while the other two ran. Shaun dropped the asshole and came toward Dean as he uncurled, then winced as pain radiated out from his side.

"You okay?" Shaun asked as he knelt beside him.

"Yeah…no…" Dean lay back on the dirty concrete, holding his side. "Shit. I think something's broken."

"Hold still." Shaun's fingers lifted Dean's shirt and he made a face before nodding. "That rib is probably cracked. Does anything else hurt?"

"Only everything." Dean said, reaching a hand up to be helped up. "Thank you."

Shaun smiled and shook his head. "It's my job, looking after you. Besides…you left without saying goodbye." He helped Dean stand and steadied him. "I should probably take you to an ER, get that looked at."

Dean took a slow deep breath. It didn't hurt much, so he figured the break couldn't be more than a hairline. "I'll be fine."

"You keep saying that." Shaun brushed at the dirt clinging to Dean's jacket. 

"My brother…he's home alone…I need to get there."

Shaun nodded. "Okay, but promise me you'll have it looked at before tomorrow night?"

Dean offered a smile. "Yeah, sure. When I go to the hospital to see my father."

For a minute, Dean thought Shaun was going to kiss him, then Shaun stepped back and waved at the street. 

"I should go. Drive safe, the roads are icy."

"I will." He couldn't figure Shaun out. One minute he was tough bouncer thug threatening to kick his ass for not following orders, next he was acting like he wanted to be Dean's friend…or something.

Dean brushed at the snow and dirt on his ass and headed for his car. He was getting tired of coming home sore and having to hide injuries from his brother. As he pulled into the driveway though he discovered it would be even harder. Jim's beat up truck was parked in front of the house.

He sat in the car for a few minutes, and when he moved to get out, he groaned with the pain radiating out from the rib. He tried to marshal his expression as he opened the front door, not surprised to find Jim on the couch.

"Hey."

Jim stood, eyes sweeping over him. "What happened to you?"

"I got jumped by a couple of assholes on my way to the car." Dean lied, shedding his coat and trying not to wince. He didn't fully succeed. 

"You hurt?"

"Think they cracked a rib, but I'll be fine."

"You should let me have a look."

He knew better than to argue. "Yeah, give me a minute? I'm sticky and sweaty from work. Let me jump in the shower."

He had to get the make up off before Jim saw it. He might get away with a lot of shit with Sam, but Jim was going to see through stuff fast. He scrubbed down and got into his sweats, then stopped in to check on Sam.

By the time he got back to the living room, Jim had the lights on and his first aid kit rolled out on the coffee table. Dean didn't say anything. He just crossed the room and lifted his arm to give Jim a good view of his ribs.

Jim was quiet while he ran his fingers over the ribs. Dean winced when he found the one that was likely cracked. "Well, I think we should tape it up, just to be safe."

Dean nodded. "Okay."

"You going to tell me what the older bruising is from?"

"Fight a few nights ago." Dean responded. 

"Sounds like a rough place, this job of yours."

"It's a bar." Dean responded as Jim got out the roll of medical tape. "It gets rowdy."

"I can see that." He finished taping Dean's chest and sighed. "I hear your daddy's doing better."

Dean nodded. "They got him up on his feet today. Doctor says that the test results are looking good…and that Dad is lucky."

"I don't know about lucky, but he's always been stubborn." 

Dean smirked and nodded. "That he has. You gonna be okay on the couch? I'm wiped."

"Go on. I can take care of myself."

 

"Nice and easy now."

"Fuck you."

Dean smirked at the physical therapist who was trying to get his father back in the wheelchair.

"Mr. Winchester, you can't over do it. You need to rest."

"One more." John growled, inching the walker forward again even though he was leaning on it heavily and sweating with the exertion. He shuffled his feet forward one at a time, then cursed and shook his head. "Now…now."

He was shaking by the time the young man got the chair in position and put a hand on his back.

"I can get him back to his room." Dean said, knowing from the look on his father's face he was ready to tear the guy in two. He waited until the therapist was gone before he looked at his father. "You really shouldn't bully him. He's trying to help."

"The doctor won't let me go until I can do it without the walker. And I feel like a fucking old man."

Dean helped him put his feet on the foot rests of the chair, then got behind it and started to push him out of the therapy room. "You know, if you push too hard you could hurt yourself worse."

"You sound like your mother." John said. 

"Well, she was a smart woman." Dean pushed him into the elevator and pressed the button for his floor. "Speaking of women, that nurse of yours is one hot—"

John raised a hand to cut him off. "Not a chance in hell."

"I'm just saying-"

John smiled up at him. "Trust me on this one. She likes older men."

Dean chuckled as the doors opened and pushed him out of the elevator, headed for his room. He was only partially surprised to find Sam and Jim there. Together, Jim and Dean got John back into his bed.

Dean stepped back. "Well, since my relief is here, I'm going to go. My boss has a party or something he wants me to work." He glanced at Jim, then Sam. "I'm going to be late, so don’t worry."

He hoped he sounded casual enough and didn’t look like he was sulking off to trade in his jeans and boots for a g-string and lube. Charlie had told him the night before that he would be working a special job. Like before, he’d offered Dean no indication of what the job was, just told him to get to the club by four thirty.

He parked on the side street near the club and trudged through the snow up to the alley. He was so early that the back door guard wasn’t even out yet. Dean let himself inside. He was alone, but not for long. Charlie appeared in the door not a minute later. 

“Good, you’re here. Lets go.” 

Dean didn’t argue, the sight of Matty broken and bleeding on the floor of the club still pretty fresh in his mind. Charlie led him out through the club and out the front door. There was a limo waiting. Charlie held the door open and Dean ducked his head to crawl inside. Charlie joined him and pulled the door shut, then knocked on the window. 

“Where’s Shaun?” Dean asked as they pulled out onto the street.

“You’ll see him later. He’s busy taking care of something for me.” Charlie responded. He opened a console under the window to the driver and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and a glass. He half filled the glass and handed it to Dean. “Drink.”

Dean took the glass and looked at it, then up at Charlie. He really only gave Dean alcohol when he knew that what he was about to make Dean do would meet resistance.

“It wasn’t an offer Dean. Drink it now.”

Dean tipped it back, swallowing rapidly, then coughing a little. “Happy?”

He gave the glass back and glanced out the window. “Where are we going?”

“First, we’re stopping to visit a friend. I’ve got a little job for you there. Then I’ll take you to your special gig.”

The limo pulled up in front of a small house where Dean could see two of Charlie’s men sitting on the porch. Charlie opened the door and waited for Dean. As he stepped out of the car, Dean’s head was a little buzzy, far more than it should have been off one drink. Charlie’s hand fell on his shoulder, all hot and heavy and when his fingers brushed against Dean’s neck, the heat traveled. 

Charlie kept a hand on him all the way into the house. Matty was sitting on the couch, his leg in plaster from toes to hip, his arm in a sling, his face still bruised. Dean stopped and looked to Charlie and then back.

“Why are we here?” 

Charlie smiled. “Well, Dean, through that door is your job.”

Dean frowned at him, then looked at Matty, who wouldn’t meet his eyes. “What job?”

“In there is a young man who is naked and bound and waiting.”

Dean frowned harder. “What?”

Charlie rolled his eyes and sighed. “You’re going to go into that room and fuck him.”

Dean stepped back. “No, I’m not.” Matty stiffened. Charlie raised an eyebrow.

“Think carefully, Dean, before you say no to me.”

Dean felt the color drain from his face. Charlie stepped in, playing with the collar of Dean’s jacket. “It could easily be your brother in that room, Dean, instead of Matthew’s.”

Dean swallowed, closing his eyes.

“Now, Matthew understood the consequences of his refusing me. Do you understand the consequences if you do?”

Dean nodded slowly.

“Good. Give me your jacket, then go in there and do your job. And don’t think about lying.” He gestured at the television. “I’ll be watching. And I’ll be checking that you actually came too.”

“I…” Dean shook his head. “I don’t know if I can.”

Charlie smirked. “Don’t worry about that. The drug cocktail I gave you in that shot should take care of any issues you might have.”

Drug cocktail. That explained the dizziness and the flushing.

Dean pulled his jacket off and gave it to Charlie. He couldn’t look at Matty. He had no idea how he was going to go through with this. He opened the door and nearly closed it without walking in. He inhaled and stepped in, closing the door behind him. 

The hood covered head lifted, turned his way. “Who…who’s there?”

Dean opened his mouth, but didn’t know what to say. He moved closer. “I…I’m here to…” What? What was he going to say to the kid? He couldn’t see the guy’s face to know how old he was, but he was going to guess older than Sam, but still younger than Dean.

He was kneeling on the bed, his hands tied with rope that ran under the head of the bed, came up at the other end and bound his ankles together. He couldn’t do this. 

A flashing light caught his eye and he looked up at the camera mounted in the corner. He had no choice. Charlie was watching.

Dean put a hand on the kid’s back. “I don’t want to hurt you. Try to relax.”

“You’re going to…they said you were going to…”

“Shh.” Dean petted over his skin. “Easy. I don’t really have a choice here. If I don’t, they’ll hurt me and my brother.”

His hand swiped down lower, closer to the kid’s ass. “I don’t want to.” He whispered the words, daring a glance at the camera again. “I’m not even sure I can.” He unzipped his jeans, watching the kid start to tremble. 

“Please….please don’t do this…”

Dean closed his eyes and turned away, pulling his cock out. He exhaled and focused on getting hard enough to do what he had to. Whatever drug was running through him seemed to do its job though and just fondling himself seemed to be enough. He let his jeans drop to the floor.

There was a bottle of lube on the night stand. Dean grabbed it and moved closer to the bed.

"Please…please…I won't tell them…I'll say you did it…just…just don't…please…"

"They're watching." Dean said, opening the lube. He needed to just get it over with. "Just…close your eyes and try not to tense up, it only gets worse. I'll try to make it fast."

He wet his fingers with lube, spilling it on the bed and his legs and cursing as he got a knee up beside the kid. His fingers shook as he rubbed them over the hole. The kid's body was trembling and it took Dean a minute to place the noise coming from him. He was crying. 

The sound intensified as Dean pressed inward. He worked his finger in, and then out again. He got a second finger in and the kid yelled, then fell back to begging. "Please…please…"

Dean looked up at the camera, wanting to rip it off the wall, knowing that Charlie was out in the living room watching them, making Matty watch them. He stretched the kid open, wanting to do his best not to hurt him any more than was absolutely necessary.

"Okay, this is it…Just…take a deep breath, and let it out slow." Dean said, his voice pitched low. He reached for his cock, stroking it with his lube slick hand. It filled and hardened more than he thought it would under the circumstances and he brought it up, settling the head against the lubed up hole. "Now, breathe in."

He felt the kid inhale, and when he started to let it out, Dean pushed in. It was more than anyone had done for him, and he wasn't sure it actually would help, but it gave the kid something to do while Dean did the deed.

He was tight…tighter than the one chick he'd ever gotten into. His cock seemed to like it though and as he pulled out and started back in, he realized he wasn't going to have as a hard a time getting to orgasm as he'd thought. Probably whatever drugs Charlie had fed him doing their job. 

The kid sobbed under him, the bed shaking as Dean hurried, finally feeling the start of it, building fast and hard and suddenly he was coming like he hadn't in months, emptying himself into the kid before he pulled back.

The kid collapsed forward as much as his bonds allowed, crying loudly now. Dean's cock was still hard, still dribbling come and he was suddenly going to be sick. He ran to the only open door in the room, into the bathroom.

He threw up into the toilet, retching long after his stomach was empty. It took him a few minutes to pull himself together, flush the toilet and rinse out his mouth. He used some toilet paper to wipe himself up, then went back to pull his jeans back on. 

The crying had quieted some. Dean leaned in close. "I really…I'm sorry…"

The door opened and Charlie came in, grinning. "I knew you had it in you, Son."

"I told you, don't call me that." Dean growled, ready now to be as far away from the smug bastard as possible.

"That was pretty hot, Mustang. Makes me want to throw you down over his back and have my way with you."

"If that's what it takes to get us out of here." Dean said. 

Charlie went to the bed and unceremoniously stuck two fingers into the kid's ass. "Very nice. I see the drugs are working." He wiped his hands on the bedspread. "Well then, lets you and I get on with our evening, shall we?"

"What about him?" Dean asked.

Charlie grabbed the back of his neck and shoved him toward the door. "Don't worry about him. Worry about you."

In the car, Charlie unzipped his pants and pulled his cock out, shoving Dean to the floor. "Make yourself useful."

At least Dean had done this enough that he knew what he was doing. He knelt between Charlie's open legs and leveraged up enough to lick up his dick. Charlie didn't like a lot of playing around, and Dean got the impression that he would be pressed for time, so he closed his lips around Charlie's cock and pushed down, then slid up, setting up a pretty quick rhythm. 

He knew Charlie was close when his hand pressed Dean's head down, and Dean had to swallow fast not to choke. Charlie handed him another half glass of the drug laced whiskey when he sat back.

"I don't think—"

"Drink it."

Dean took the glass while Charlie tucked himself back into his pants and zipped up. A few seconds later the car was rolling to a stop and Charlie looked at Dean until he had downed the whiskey.

"Now then, you will keep your eyes on the floor. You will not speak. You will follow me and do as you are told."

"Yes sir." Dean responded, setting the glass down as Charlie got out of the car. Dean did exactly as he was told, though he stole glimpses of the elaborate yard and big house as he was led inside. 

All around them people bustled and it was hard not to look up, especially because he felt like he could feel them looking at him. Then Charlie was reaching for him, pressing him in through a door.

"Ah, there you are, I was beginning to wonder."

Dean fought the urge to look up at the voice.

"Marsha, this is Mustang, my newest party boy. He is yours for the evening."

"Same terms as last time?"

Charlie's hand tightened on his neck, then stroked down over his back. "Standard price for each cock in his mouth or ass, an extra hundred each for any marks left on him." 

Dean flinched a little, but the woman chuckled. "No, he's a pretty one. Our bad boys aren't going to be here, so I think he's safe from their canes. I'm thinking I'll put him on the waterfall."

Charlie laughed and slapped his ass. "You do whatever this woman tells you. Shaun will be here to fetch you when it's over."

"Come on Mustang, let's get you prepped." She started walking and Dean followed, through another door and down a corridor into a small room that had a shower set on the back wall. A young man stood near the shower, a towel over one shoulder and gloves on his hands.

"Your clothes go here." She tapped a narrow cabinet near the door. "Justin will scrub you and dry you. Then you will be taken next door where you will be examined, and your accessories for the evening applied."

He wanted to ask what that meant, but she was gone and Justin was staring at him. He pulled off his clothes, shoving them in the cabinet and when he was naked the water started behind him.

Dean saw no point in dragging this out so he sighed and headed over. 

"Just stand still. I'll do the work." Up close, Dean could see that the gloves were made specifically for washing. He stepped under the spray and Justin began scrubbing him down, meticulously tending every inch, each finger…when he got to Dean's ass, he pushed Dean forward, his one hand moving through his crack and up to his hole, shoving a finger into him and swirling it around before he pulled Dean back upright and ran a gloved hand over his cock and down to his balls.

To his dismay, Dean's cock hardened with the attention. "Oh, yeah. You're going to have fun tonight."

Dean doubted anything he considered fun was going to happen in the next few hours. Still, he didn't argue. Didn't speak.

"I see you know how to follow rules, good." The water stopped and Dean was towel dried roughly. "Come on then." He led Dean into another room, one that looked an awful lot like a doctor's office.

An older man in a lab coat stepped out from behind a curtain and behind him came a man in a blindfold that covered to the end of his nose and nothing else, his hands bound in something soft. Justin left Dean and went to the blindfolded guy, guiding him out of the room. 

"Over here, please." He gestured behind the curtain where there was an exam table.

He was given a quick once over, then told to bend over the table and spread his legs. A gloved hand prepped him, smearing lube liberally around and inside him. "Stand." 

He stood up and that same gloved hand smeared lube over his cock, which was liking the attention far more than Dean cared for. "Now then, to keep you from chaffing too quickly…" The man rummaged through a box of odd looking sleeve like things, pulling up a flesh covered one. "Yes, this should do nicely."

He fit the sleeve over Dean's cock, then reached for Dean's hands. He put Dean's hands on his cock, over the sleeve. "That's it. Hold it like you're going to whack off." He moved Dean's hands to show him how the silicone sleeve just glided over his cock and Dean moaned.

The man chuckled. "Now, hold that." He went to a drawer and came back with what looked like a roll of black tape. He started at Dean's wrists, but the stuff didn't stick to his skin, just to itself. He wrapped a couple of times around Dean's wrists, then down around his hands and back again, until there was hardly any skin showing at all, but the tip of Dean's cock showed at the end.

Next he went to a cabinet on the opposite wall and came back with something in his hands that had leather straps. "Open your mouth."

Dean frowned, but opened his mouth. The man lifted his hands and put something in Dean's mouth, pushing it open more. It held down his tongue and settled behind his teeth, holding his mouth open. The man pulled the leather straps behind Dean's head and secured it. Dean felt the blindfold coming before it covered his eyes and was tied.

The man put something in both of his ears then, dulling the sounds around him. Dean could tell the man was talking, but couldn't understand him. Then he was being slapped on the ass, a hand on his shoulder drawing him…and it was hard to walk like that, with no sense of where he was and his hands taped around his cock, but he managed not to stumble.

He was stopped, turned and pressed back to sit. The surface was cold and narrow, just wide enough to hold him as those hands guided him to lay on his right side. Something was put under his head to hold it, then a strap was brought up over his neck. He had to swallow a wave of panic at being strapped down, but by the time he had, there were more straps, running over his chest and abs. Hands arranged his legs so that his hands were held between them, still around his cock and then his ankles and knees were strapped down.

For a long time he was left alone after that. His cock was hard between his hands. There was music muffled by the earplugs. Then a touch, glancing, over his skin, his hip. Dean stiffened a little, his stomach clenching. The touch became more firm, then something was pressing into him. The cock penetrated him slowly…the only other thing touching him was that hand on his hip. The cock came harder the second time, pushing on Dean, making his own dick slide through the sleeve. He groaned with the stimulation, knowing it wasn’t going to take much to get him to come.

Fingers caressed his cheek, moved to push into his open mouth. Dean could feel himself drooling now, unable to close his mouth to swallow. Those fingers fucked his mouth, while the cock in his ass sped up. The faster he went, the closer Dean came to orgasm.

Fingers tightened on his hip and heat flushed his ass. The fingers in his mouth pulled out and were replaced by a long, thin dick. Another one was already shoving into his ass as well.

His own cock started spilling onto his thigh. The one in his mouth came and the thick strings of it drooled out of Dean’s mouth. 

He was still hard, his cock tender and swollen as his hands moved over it with the momentum of the man behind him. 

Dean couldn’t start to track the time as they used him, a steady pace of dicks until come was just dripping from his mouth and ass and from between his hands as he came again. Eventually it slowed and the muffled sounds of the party faded. He started when a hand touched him, but it felt familiar somehow.

It moved up from his feet, loosening the straps and then helping him sit up. Dean’s knees were nudged apart and the tape removed from his hands. His cock was still hard, sore, and he whimpered around the ring in his mouth as his hands came away from it. 

The leather straps were loosened and the ring lifted from his mouth. Dean closed his mouth, opened it again, moved his jaw to try to relieve the ache. One of the earplugs was pulled out. “Easy, I can’t take the blindfold off yet. Are you hurt?”

Shaun. Relief flushed through him. He shook his head. 

“Okay. Can you stand?”

Dean licked his lips and nodded. He was sore, but it wasn’t like they’d hurt him really. Shaun held his arm as Dean put his feet on the floor and stood. Dean clung to him as he found his balance. Come dripped out of him as he moved, his ass so open it couldn’t even pretend to hold it in.

“Lean on me as much as you need to.” Shaun said, slipping an arm around his back. “Lets get you cleaned up.”

The walk seemed to take forever, but finally Dean heard a door shut and Shaun was pulling the blindfold off of him. They were in the shower room again. Shaun was peeling off his clothes while Dean shivered.

Shaun’s hands were gentle as they helped Dean over to the shower and turned it on. Dean was still shivering. Shaun guided him in under the spray. They were silent as Shaun’s hands moved over his skin, helping the water wash away the sweat and come. He stepped in front of Dean and pulled his head down to rest on Shaun’s chest, getting Dean to step forward, which let the water hit his ass at a good angle to clean him. Shaun’s fingers gently parted his cheeks and Dean hissed at the sting of hot water hitting over sensitive skin.

Dean closed his eyes against a sudden wave of tears. He didn’t want to cry in front of this guy. Shaun caressed his back, gentle and his voice was a low whisper of reassuring sounds and Dean couldn’t hold back the sob that cracked through him, cracked him open…and suddenly he was clinging to Shaun and crying, his knees buckling. 

Shaun followed him to the floor, the two of them kneeling under the spray of water. Shaun kissed over Dean’s forehead, turning his face up. “You’re okay, I’m right here.” His lips traveled down Dean’s face, then covered Dean’s mouth. It was soft and gentle and chaste and somehow that just broke Dean more. 

He pulled back, wiping at his face and stepping out of the shower.

“Hey.” Shaun turned off the water and followed him. 

“No…it’s okay. I’m okay.” Dean shook his head and sniffled, reaching for the towel.

Shaun’s hand trailed down his back. “Okay.” He backed off a step and Dean went to get his clothes from the cabinet. They dressed in silence, then Dean turned to look at Shaun.

"Wait…don't you…I mean…" He was supposed to be servicing Shaun, he knew that.

Shaun shook his head. "Not tonight."

"Won't you get in trouble?"

Shaun came closer, lifting one hand to caress lightly over Dean's cheek. "Let me worry about that. Now, I need you to keep your eyes closed while we leave, okay?"

Dean nodded and closed his eyes. Shaun took his hand and led him from the room. The night air was cold as it slapped into Dean's face, but then he was in the car and they were moving. 

"You can open your eyes."

Dean blinked and looked around them. It was starting to snow. He hadn't realized in the daylight how far outside the downtown area they'd gone. The lights spread out below them against the black sky.

"How late is it?" Dean asked, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. 

"Almost three."

Dean yawned and stretched in the seat. 

"I can just take you home if you want." 

"My dad would kill me if I left the car sitting where it is."

Shaun's hand settled on Dean's knee. It was oddly warm and comforting. He pulled it away again as they turned onto the street where Dean had left the Impala. "I'm going to follow you, make sure you get there safe."

Dean wanted to argue, but Shaun leaned in and kissed him…really kissed him, his tongue licking across Dean's lips and into his mouth and Dean didn't pull away, though he didn't understand why. Shaun was not someone Dean wanted to get involved with. Even if Shaun had been a girl. This whole situation was entirely too fucked up for that.

Shaun pulled away and Dean opened his door, slipping a little in the snow. He got his car started and let it warm up before pulling out and heading home. True to his word, Shaun followed him the whole way. Dean parked and waved as he headed inside. Shaun left once the door was closed.

Pastor Jim was asleep on the couch and Dean snuck past him and into the bathroom, shedding his clothes to shower again, scrubbing at his skin with soap and standing in the hot water until it started to get cold. He pulled on the sweats and t-shirt he'd been using to sleep in and went to check on Sam.

It was obvious that Sam had been having nightmares again. The nightlight was on in the corner and his bed was a mess. Dean moved in to straighten out the sheets and blankets, settling them over Sam gently. 

Sam shifted, his eyes opening and squinting. "Dean?"

"Hey, squirt. Go back to sleep."

Sam shook his head. "Can't."

Dean smiled and sat on the bed, brushing the hair out of his brother's eyes. "Sure you can, you're safe."

Sam made a face. "Vampires."

Dean nodded. "Budge over."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." 

Sam moved and Dean slid into bed beside him, letting Sam curl into him like he had when they were both younger and the nightmares came more often. Dean kissed his forehead lightly. "Sleep Sammy. I'm never going to let anything happen to you."

Even if that meant letting himself become a whore.


	5. Chapter 5

“Boys are rowdy tonight.” Adam said as he came in from the stage, sweating and sporting a big red blotch on his hip where he’d obviously been hit with something.

“More than normal?” Dean asked as he finished getting dressed for his turn.

“Oh, yeah…some gay firemen’s convention or something.” Adam responded. “They are going to eat you alive.”

“Don’t worry too much, Mustang.” Spike said behind him. “Charlie pulled Shaun off the door to guard your pretty ass. At least until someone pays the dough to fuck it.”

Dean ignored him and went back to applying his eyeliner. He just wanted the night over. His father was supposed to have been released from the hospital in the afternoon, but when Dean called Charlie to get the night off to help out, Charlie had made sure he understood that not coming in to work was tantamount to breaking their agreement, with all the consequences that implied.

His father was going to be angry. Sam already was. But, with his father home, they were that much closer to getting the fuck out of town, and Dean was well beyond ready for that.

He could hear his intro starting and sighed, turning to head out for his first dance of the night. The place was at capacity. Dean cracked his neck as Back in Black started and moved out onto the stage. Drunk, half dressed men lined the stage, already waving money at him. He gyrated and moved, keeping away from grabby hands as he pulled on the snaps of his tight leather pants.

The crowd was so loud as he neared the end of the runway that he couldn’t even hear his music. He pulled the pants off, tossing them back behind him and shaking his ass toward the men crowding the stage. 

Hands grabbed him, shoving money into his g-string, sliding over his skin. He tried to dance back toward the stage, but hands on his legs pulled him back.

“Hey!” He kicked, catching someone in the face. He was momentarily free of hands and dove for the pole, grabbing it and holding on as the hands came back. 

He fought to keep from getting yanked into the crowd, then suddenly hands were being pulled off him, one by one, and he got his feet under him, standing tight to the pole.

Shaun and two other guys were beating back the crowd and the house lights were coming on. “Get back stage.” Shaun yelled at Dean just before he punched one of the men in the mouth. Dean didn’t need a second invitation, he kept to the center of the runway and grabbing at his pants as ran off stage.

He was panting as he made it to the dressing room, pushing past the other dancers. He was still shaking when Shaun came in a few minutes later, pulling Dean into a back corner.

“Are you okay?”

Dean nodded shakily. “I think so.” 

Shaun looked him over. “Someone bring me a shot of something.” Shaun said over his shoulder. He didn’t say anything else until he had the shot and had handed it to Dean. “Drink.”

Dean didn’t argue. He downed the whiskey and handed the glass back.

“Okay, we’ve tossed the trouble makers. Charlie’s trying to cool the room off before you go back out.”

“Back…” Dean shook his head. “He can’t expect me to…after…”

“He does. And he’s got three private dances lined up for you too.”

“Fuck.” Dean pulled a hand through his hair. “I can’t.” He shook his head and paced away. “I can’t.”

Shaun followed him and cupped his face in big hands. “You can. You can do this.”

“No.” Dean pulled back. “My father is home now. He’s going to….fuck…” Dean crossed to his station, pulling his jeans off the chair. “I have to go home.”

“Dean.” Shaun using his real name pulled him up short, his jeans half way up his legs. “If you leave, Charlie is going to be pissed.”

Dean shook his head. "I don't care." He finished putting on his jeans, shoved his feet into his sneakers and grabbed his shirt and coat, already around Shaun and to the back door. He was pulling his shirt on in the alley when Shaun grabbed him and pushed him into the wall.

"Dean." His voice was a harsh hiss, his body pressing Dean into the dirty brick wall. "Charlie isn't playing."

Dean struggled for a minute, then Shaun slapped him hard across the face. "Get your shit together. Or he's gonna send me to break your legs, not to mention what he'll have me do to Sam."

Dean froze, the image of Matty's brother rising in his head. "No."

"Then get your ass back inside, get up on that stage and dance."

"Everything okay, boys?" Charlie's voice came from the doorway. 

"Yeah, Boss. Mustang just needed some air after that."

"Take five, I'll put one of the other guys on."

Dean nodded, more to Shaun than in response to the words. "I'm okay."

"Not gonna run on me?"

Dean shook his head. "No. I know what I have to do."

"Good." Shaun's mouth covered his, tongue sliding between Dean's lips. "Dance for me. Forget the others."

Shaun's hand slid down Dean's arm, his fingers twining between Dean's. He tugged and Dean followed numbly, his mind stuck on the thought of Sam naked and bound and waiting to pay for his failure.

They stopped and Dean's mirror. "Okay?" Shaun asked.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I'll be fine." 

"I'll be out front."

Shaun left him standing there, with the other dancers staring at him. Dean tried to still his stomach, breathing slow and deep as he started removing his clothes again. "What are you staring at?" he growled at Spike who laughed and disappeared into the bathroom. 

"Just breathe." Dean murmured to his reflection. "You've done it before. It's just a little longer."

The second time out was better, the crowd more controlled and as soon as Dean hit the stage he could see Shaun there, hovering nearby. He managed to get through the song without falling or getting pulled into the audience. Shaun was waiting for him back stage. He had another shot for Dean which Dean took without a word, downing it and letting Shaun herd him toward the private room.

The man waiting for him in the shadows was tall, and he wore a cowboy hat. Dean couldn’t see much else. The music from the stage shook the walls as the door closed and Dean moved further into the room. “I’m Mustang.” Dean said, not used to the men who bought him being so quiet.

“I know. I bought you.” He moved away from the wall, and even when he was directly in front of Dean, he couldn’t see the man’s face. He squinted up at him and shifted his weight.

“So…” 

He was answered with a big fist backhand across his face. Dean stumbled, his hand lifting to the pain blooming in his cheek.

“Don’t need your mouth running, boy.” He crowded Dean in against the wall, his hand fisting in Dean’s hair. “What I need is for you to hold still while I get what I paid for.”

Dean nodded as much as he could with the way his head was being held. The man’s right fist slammed into Dean’s stomach, doubling him over. The fist in his hair pulled him up again and shoved him toward the bench.

It was fairly obvious he wasn’t getting a chance to prep as the sound of the man’s zipper filled the room. Dean did his best not to struggle, not to tense up as the man pulled aside the g-string and rubbed the head of his cock over Dean’s ass. He shoved in hard and Dean grunted, biting down on the yell of pain that wanted to come out. 

Once he was fully inside Dean, he let go of Dean’s hair, moving his hands to Dean’s sides, his fingers pressing in deep, fingernails cutting into Dean’s skin. His pace was brutal, slamming Dean against the bench hard enough to leave bruises on his stomach.

His right hand lifted, then crashed into Dean’s hip hard. Dean yelled then, shoving back against him. He was rewarded with another punch to the same spot on his hip, then the cowboy pulled out and threw Dean to the ground.

Before Dean could react, a boot came down on his hip and he felt something inside pop. He tried to crawl for the door, but the cowboy dragged him back, stepping on his right thigh to pin him down.

"Fucking whore." He stood, his heel digging into the flesh of Dean's thigh and jacked himself off, coming all over Dean's face. He bent down, grabbing Dean's chin. "Next time you're told to hold still and take it, do what you're told."

He stalked away and Dean rolled onto his side, muffling the yell of pain by biting into his thumb. The door opened and closed and Dean didn't look up, didn't react. He never even saw the next guy or the one after that. By the time they were done with him he was close to passing out. He lay on the dirty floor forever before gentler hands found him.

"Hey." 

Dean cried out as Shaun rolled him onto his back, one hand reaching for the injured hip. "Easy, I've got you." Shaun's hands moved over his skin, checking muscles and bones and joints. When he got to Dean's hip Dean yelled again, clutching at Shaun's hand. 

"Fuck. Fuck."

"Okay, hold still." Shaun's fingers probed the joint until Dean was ready to yell again. "Okay, okay. I don't think anything's broken, but I'm going to get your clothes and get you in to the doc, okay?"

He wanted to protest, but he was pretty sure he couldn't have gotten up on his own just then anyway. Shaun disappeared and when he came back, he tugged Dean's g-string down and away, then eased his jeans up over his legs. It took some maneuvering to get them up and there were tears burning the corners of his eyes by the time Shaun pulled the zipper up. He helped Dean sit and eased his shirt on, then knelt to put his sneakers on his feet.

Dean's hip screamed in pain as Shaun got him up on his feet, but once he was up, the leg held some of his weight. Shaun half carried him out the back door and laid him in the van.

A few minutes later they were at the small clinic that Dean knew was in Charlie's pocket. "Wait here."

Shaun disappeared inside and came out with a wheelchair, helping Dean into it and pushing him inside. "Charlie called ahead. They're ready for us."

Ready meant whisking Dean into x-ray and from there into an exam room where he sat in his back open gown watching the bruising develop. From mid way up his side down to nearly his knee he was already purple and blue with spots deepening quickly toward black.

"Good new is nothing's broken. You're going to be sore for a few days, but I can give you some pain medication." The doctor said finally. "No dancing for at least three days." The doctor finished, looking at Shaun.

"I'll make sure of it."

"Get dressed, I'll have your medication ready at the desk when you're done."

He left the room and Dean eased off the exam table, wincing, though his leg held his weight. Shaun handed him his jeans.

"I'm going to take you home." Shaun held up his hand when Dean started to argue. "I'll bring you the car. But you're not driving." Shaun held his hips to steady him as Dean dressed and supported him as he limped out of the exam room.

As promised the doctor was waiting at the reception desk with a bottle of pills. "I'd stay off it as much as possible the next few days, ice for the next 24 hours."

Dean took the pills and put them in his pocket, shaking free of Shaun to test his ability to walk on his own. It hurt, but he managed, though he couldn't keep from limping.

Shaun drove him to his house, but Dean stopped him when he looked like he was going to get out of the car and help Dean in. "I got it."

"You're barely walking."

"I got it." Dean leaned over and brushed a kiss onto Shaun's cheek. "Thanks."

"Hey, I'll tell Charlie what the doc said."

"Tomorrow's supposed to be my night off." Dean responded as he opened the door. At least the sidewalk was clear of snow. "So, I'll call you tomorrow." Dean closed the door and limped his way to the door.

 

Jim heard the car that was not the impala, and listened to the hesitant footsteps. Dean was limping. The front door eased open and closed again. Jim lifted his head from the couch, squinting in the dark.

"You alright there, Son?" Jim asked softly, watching Dean wince and freeze.

"Yeah…just…" He waved a hand and pills rattled in a bottle. 

Jim sat up, reaching for the light. "What is it this time?"

Dean turned away from the light and started toward the kitchen. Jim stood, following him. By the time he got there, Dean had a glass of water and was tossing back one of the pills.

"I'm fine." Dean said, shaking his head. "Or I will be. Just banged up."

"Another fight?" Jim asked, crossing his arms and leaning on the doorframe.

"Car." Dean said, coughing a little. "Didn't see it." His hand rubbed down his leg, but he didn't look Jim in the eye.

"Awful lot of accidents and fights for a busboy." Jim observed, watching Dean's face tighten. "Anything you want to talk about?"

"It's late, I'm tired." Dean drank more of the water, then set the glass aside.

"You know you can quit any time. You did your job, you kept you and Sam safe. You should get back to school, let your daddy and me take over."

Dean shook his head tightly, his mouth a thin line. "No. I can't."

"It isn't like you need the money, Son."

Dean sighed and limped toward him, around him. "It isn't the money. Just…this isn't the kind of job you can just quit. Not without consequences."

Jim put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "Let me help."

"No. I'm a big boy, Pastor Jim. I can handle it. It's just until we leave town anyway." He yawned. "Really. Pain pills. I need to sleep."

Jim stood back and let him go, pacing the living room once he was gone. "What have you gotten yourself into Dean?" he asked softly before he heard John in the nearer bedroom. Jim opened the door to find John half way to the bathroom, leaning heavily on the walker. "Why didn't you call me?"

"Did." John was sweating as he pushed a leg forward.

"Let me help." 

John pulled his arm away. "I'm fine."

"Yeah, you Winchesters. The lot of you, just fine." Jim said before he could stop himself.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Jim shook his head. "Go on, take care of your business. If you need me, I'm right here."

John got another three steps before his shoulders sagged and he hung his head. "Jim."

He didn't say anything, just stepped in behind John to support him. John was a stubborn man, and Jim knew how much he hated being an invalid. They got into the bathroom and John murmured his thanks before Jim withdrew to wait for him.

By the time they got John back into his bed, he was trembling with the effort and sweating. "Dean's home." Jim murmured as he pulled blankets up over John. 

"He tell you about this job of his?" John asked once he'd caught his breath.

"Not much to be honest. I don't think I like it much though. You've seen the bruises?"

John nodded. "Yeah, he thinks he's hiding them, but Sam tells me Dean's been coming home all beat up."

Jim sat beside him, chewing the inside of his lip as he thought about how much to tell his friend. "His hurt bad enough to have pain pills tonight."

John stiffened and adjusted himself against the pillows. "What? Did he say how?"

Jim shrugged. "He said he got hit by a car."

"You don't believe him." John said. It wasn't a question.

"No, I don't." Jim agreed. "You ever know a busboy to get so beat up so often?" He sighed and looked up at John. "Don't worry. I'll make sure he's okay. You need anything?"

John's eyes were already drooping toward sleep though. Jim stood, heading back out into the hall. He wandered down to check on Sam, finding Dean curled up in the bed with Sam, only this time it was Sam who was curled protectively around Dean.

Something certainly wasn't right. It was becoming painfully apparent that Dean had been lying to them, and whatever job he'd gotten himself to take care of him and Sam had repercussions the kid hadn't been prepared for. 

Jim couldn't tell if it was drugs or something worse. He sighed as he settled back onto the couch. He aimed to find out though. He owed the kid for not being able to get to him when the accident first happened. Damned demons.

He rubbed over his face and laid down. Morning would come quickly, and he had a house full of stubborn Winchester men to take care of. There wasn't enough sleep in the world to get him ready for that.

 

The smell of coffee pulled Jim out of twisted dreams and he sat up slowly, eyes stealing to the clock on the wall. It was after seven. He scrubbed his face and stood, shuffling toward the kitchen. 

Sam looked up from his breakfast. "Made coffee."

"I see that. Thanks."

He poured himself a cup and sat at the table. Sam closed the book he'd been reading and picked up his cereal bowl to drain it of milk. "How are you doing, Sam?"

Sam looked at him like he was crazy. "I'm fine, Pastor Jim, other than the history test today."

Jim wrapped long fingers around the coffee mug. "What do you know about Dean's job?"

Sam made a face. "Not much. He works nights at some bar, comes home late, gets into a lot of fights. Takes a lot of showers after."

Jim frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

Sam shrugged and stood, taking his bowl to the sink. "Always showers when he comes home, before he even comes to check on me. Sometimes he gets up in the middle of the night and showers again. And every day before work he showers again."

Something about that set Jim on edge. "Have you asked him about it?"

Sam sighed, his eyes darting to Jim's then away. "He says he feels…dirty. Sticky or something. Then he got pissed at me and we had a fight." Sam squirmed like he was uncomfortable with the conversation. “I need to get to school.”

“Want a ride?” Jim asked.

“Bus is fine. I’ll see you later.”

Jim watched him go. It wasn’t a lot more information than he already had, though Dean feeling dirty was new. Any number of things that could mean really. But he would find out and get the kid loose from it. He owed him that much.

 

Dean groaned as he came awake, disoriented until he remembered falling asleep in Sam’s bed. He hadn’t even showered, just stripped down and pulled on his sweats. His body ached and his hip hurt bad enough he wasn’t sure he could move it.

He shifted slowly, easing upward until he was sitting. The dull aftertaste of the drugs coated his tongue and made him want to brush his teeth. He pulled a hand through his hair and froze. His hair was matted and stiff. He pushed himself out of bed and limped to the dresser. Somehow he’d gotten come in his hair and it was dried and stuck to his stomach as well.

Disgusted, Dean limped out into the hall, stopping when he heard voices. His father. Jim. The conversation stopped, but before one of them could call his name, Dean went into the bathroom.

He was mortified that he’d come home that way, that Jim had seen him, that he had slept in Sam’s bed like that. Dean turned on the water and tried to figure out how to get into the tub without hurting himself more.

It took him a minute, but eventually he did it, clinging to the towel rack and wall. His hip was stiff and the pain ratcheted up when he put weight on it, but the water was hot and felt good pouring over him.

He leaned into the spray, eyes closed. He could just hear the rumble of his father's voice, low, under the sound of the water. There was something comforting in the sound, letting him relax a little more. The voice rumbled to a stop and Dean opened his eyes. 

He wouldn't be able to hide in the shower or his room now. He might fool Sam, but now he had his father and Jim to contend with. He dumped shampoo into his hand and scrubbed his hair, then his body. He repeated the whole process twice more, adjusting the water hotter and hotter until the hot was on as high as it would go and the water was cooling anyway. His skin was bright red from the heat except where it was mottled black and blue, yellow and green and purple. 

Getting out of the tub was harder than getting in, though his hip did seem to have loosened up. He slipped, caught himself on the counter, but that only slowed his fall.

"Dean?"

Jim. Dean managed to cover himself just before the door opened, though the garish bruising extended on either side of the towel.

"You okay?"

Dean nodded. "Just…" He waved a hand at his leg and shifted around in an attempt to get up. Jim put his hand down and Dean took it reluctantly, letting Jim help him to his feet.

"That is pretty spectacular bruising." Jim's hand brushed his thigh and Dean froze. He couldn't move, even as Jim leaned in to see better. Dean's heart raced and his lungs stopped working. Jim was going to know. He was going to see it. Smell it. He was going to know—

"Everything okay?" John called from the living room.

Jim straightened up, his eyes dark as they met Dean's. "Yeah, John. Fine." He lowered his voice, his eyes never leaving Dean's. "We are going to talk about this."

Dean could feel his hands trembling, clutching the towel to cover his cock. "Maybe you could let me get dressed first?"

Jim backed off a step. "You need help?"

Dean shook his head.

"Okay, get dressed and get your ass out to the living room. You can sit with your father while I go get groceries."

"I don't think—" 

Jim held up a finger. "No. Not an argument. Not one word. You're not in charge anymore Dean. I am. At least until your daddy is better."

Jim stalked away and left Dean standing there, trembling. It took him a long time to move again and when he did it was slow, into the bedroom for clean sweats and his pain pills, then even slower out into the hallway and living room.

His father was sitting in the chair facing the television, his walker behind the chair so that he almost looked normal. His face was thin and still shadowed with bruises, the beard gone now, making his skin seem all the paler.

"Hey, you're looking good." Dean said when the silence had gotten long.

His father snorted. "You look like shit, let me see."

"I take it Jim told you?"

"He said enough. Come here." 

Dean moved closer, turning so that the injured hip was toward his father. John pulled down on the sweats and whistled low. "That's gotta hurt. You get it seen to?"

Dean held up the bottle of pills. "One of the guys from the bar took me in. Boss gave me the night off."

"With an injury like that you should take more than a night off." Jim said, reappearing with a tray. "Water for both of you, a cup of coffee for you Dean and sandwiches. That should hold you both over until I get back."

Dean sighed as Jim left them alone together, then limped his way to the couch, lowering himself down. He grabbed the coffee and used it to wash down one of the pain pills.

"So how bad is it?" John asked a few minutes later, his eyes sizing Dean up.

"I'll live." Dean replied, his hand moving self consciously to the place that hurt the worst.

"I meant this so called job of yours."

Dean looked up at him, suddenly afraid he knew, that Jim had figured it out and told his father. "I…um…I…"

John held up a hand. "I understand, Son. I do. You did what you had to do to keep you and Sam safe, but now you can't get out. Am I right?"

Dean looked at the floor, at the coffee table, any place that wasn't at his father. "Something like that."

"This the worst it's been?" 

"No." Dean whispered the word. They were way too close to the truth and he wanted to scream, to run away, to hide his shame from his father, certain that the next question would expose him.

They were quiet for a bit, Dean's face burning. 

"You don't have to tell me what it is and I'm not angry with you about it. But you do need to get out, before you end up in over your head."

Dean couldn't look at him, couldn't breathe. He was in so far over his head he couldn't see daylight. He wasn't sure he could take much more. The next special gig or backroom dance could cause real damage.

He wanted to slink back to his room and hide. Instead, he sat there cradling his coffee and trying to find something to say that would change the subject to something safer.

"How's the back?" Dean asked finally, draining his coffee.

His father made a face. "Hurts like fuck. But better."

Dean nodded and sighed. The door opened and Sam blew in along with a whirl of snow around his feet. He shivered, but didn't close the door. "Dean, you got company."

Dean pushed himself up off the couch, frowning as he limped to the door. Sam moved out of the way, putting his backpack on the floor as Dean got close enough to see Shaun standing on the porch.

"What the…" 

Shaun half smiled, rubbing his hands together. Beyond him, Dean could see the sky was dark. "Storm coming." Sam said behind him.

"Who is it, Dean?" his father asked and Dean shook his head.

"Just…just a guy from work." Dean replied. He didn't want Shaun there, but it was freezing outside and he could feel his father staring at him. For the moment Dean was frozen himself.

"Hey, can we talk?" Shaun asked finally, freeing Dean from his inertia.

"Yeah, come in." Dean pulled back and let the man in, his eyes darting from Shaun to his father and back. "Dad, Sam…this is Shaun. He…he’s the one that helped me last night after that car hit me.”

Shaun settled a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “I came by to see how he was doing.”

His father was squinting at Shaun, and Sam was staring. “Lets go to my room.”

Dean limped down the hall with Shaun following, sweating at the idea of Shaun even being there. Dean shut the door once Shaun had cleared it and instantly Shaun had him pressed up against the door, his mouth covering Dean’s.

Dean turned away, pushing on him. “Are you crazy?”

“Come on, doesn’t it turn you on to think that they’re out there wondering what we’re doing in here?”

Dean shook his head and stepped around Shaun. “No. It terrifies me.” He sat gingerly on the bed. “Why are you here?”

“Like I said, came to see how you were doing.”

Dean wrinkled his nose and touched his hip. “I’ll live.”

“I talked to Charlie. He’s okay with the no dancing thing, but he wants you at the club tomorrow night.”

“What?” Dean stood again, suddenly self conscious about not having a shirt on. He went to the dresser and pulled a t-shirt out.

“Don’t get dressed on my account.”

“Funny.” Dean turned to face him. Obviously Charlie didn’t think his injury was bad enough to keep him from being fucked. “I’ll try, but my father is already on my case, wants me to quit.”

Shaun took a step closer and Dean backed into the dresser. “You can’t, you know that.”

“I can’t keep lying to them.” Dean countered, not protesting when Shaun stepped into his space. Shaun’s hands settled on his hips. Dean turned his face to look at him and Shaun kissed him again, tongue gentle, but insistent.

“If you aren’t there, you know he’ll send me to find you.” Shaun’s voice was soft, his lips brushing against Dean’s jaw.

Dean didn’t respond, didn’t move as Shaun licked his skin and kissed his way up to Dean’s ear. “Do you have any idea how much I want you right now?”

“Shaun.” Dean stiffened, but still didn’t pull away. “My father…”

“Can you be quiet?” Shaun asked in a whisper, his eyes sparkling as he pulled back to look Dean in the eye.

He was still looking Dean in the eye as he dropped to one knee, his fingers pulling just enough on the waistband of Dean's sweats to expose his cock. Shaun licked at the tip, then around it before he took the whole thing in his mouth.

Despite his protests, Dean's cock hardened with the attention and Dean found himself leaning back onto the dresser as Shaun sucked and licked him to the brink of orgasm. "Fuck…what…" Dean looked down as Shaun grinned up at him. "You gonna leave me hanging?" Dean asked breathlessly.

"You saying you want me to finish?" Shaun asked.

"Always finish what you start." Dean growled. 

"You gonna take care of me?"

Dean glanced at the door, then nodded. "Yes. Yes. Okay? Just…" Dean reached for his cock, ready to finish the job himself, but Shaun caught his hand and pulled it aside, covering Dean's cock with his mouth and setting a fast pace, until Dean had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from yelling as he came.

Shaun didn't give Dean much recovery time, just spun him around and yanked his sweats down before he was unzipping himself and lining himself up against Dean's hole.

"Wait…wait…" Dean started to protest, but Shaun covered his mouth with one hand and shoved in. Dean was grateful for the muffling hand, because he yelled without thinking. But in this too, Shaun was quick, not wanting to get caught at it any more than Dean, he supposed. A few minutes later, Shaun grunted and pulled out, coming into his hand.

Dean limped to his pile of dirty laundry once Shaun had let go of him and tossed him a dirty shirt to wipe his hand on. "Shit. Shit." Dean rubbed his face and shook his head. "You can't…you can't be here. You can't come here."

Shaun smirked and nodded. "It's okay, I got what I came for, Mustang. Relax, enjoy your night off. I'll see you tomorrow."

He opened the bedroom door while Dean was still getting his sweats pulled back up. Dean followed him out. Shaun lifted a hand at John and headed for the door. Dean made sure it closed behind him.

"Problem?" his father asked as Dean leaned against the door.

"He just…I have to go in tomorrow."

"I told you, it's time to get out." John said indignantly.

Dean sighed. "Dad…just…"

His father shook a finger at him. "I'm serious Dean, one look at him and I know this is bad news." Sam appeared in the kitchen doorway and John glared at Dean. "Sam, Jim's bringing dinner home. Get the table set. You. Here." He pointed at Dean and then the couch.

Dean limped over and sat, wincing as the hip tightened. "I don't know what it is you've gotten yourself mixed up in, Dean. I told you I don't need to know. But it's no good, and it ends now."

"If I don't go, they'll come for me." Dean said quietly. "I've seen what they do to the ones who disobey."

John sighed and shook his head. "Tell me it isn't drugs."

Dean swallowed and shook his head. "No. Not…not drugs." Unless you counted the ones that Charlie plied him with to get what he wanted.

The door opened and Jim came in, juggling bags of groceries along with Chinese take out. Sam came from the kitchen to help and Dean stood uncertainly. 

"We aren't done." John said. "Later."

Dean nodded and got him his walker, pulling it around in front of the chair while Jim and Sam took the bags into the kitchen. He could only hope that by the time they finished dinner his father forgot, and with Jim taking him in for physical therapy the next day, Dean could just get out and go to the club early. 

It was better for everyone that he just go to work. No matter what his father said.

 

The timing was tricky. Dean had to wait for his father and Jim to leave the house, but be gone before Sam came home. He watched them leave and waited a few more minutes, then pulled his coat on and headed out with the keys to the impala. He figured he could head downtown, maybe get something to eat at one of the joints near the club.

He stopped at the stop sign at the end of the street, jumping when the passenger side door opened. Sam grinned at him as he sat down beside him, throwing his backpack into the back seat. "Where we going?"

Dean sighed. "You're going home."

"Only if you are."

"I'm going out."

"Dad said you weren't supposed to go to your job."

Dean groaned. "Dad doesn't get it. I have to go."

"What are you afraid of?" Sam asked.

"Get out of the car Sam."

"Nope. Where you go I go."

"You can't." Dean put the car in reverse, all the way to the driveway. "Go inside, do your homework. I'll be home later."

Sam shook his head and crossed his arms. "I'm not getting out until you do."

Dean dropped his head back against the seat. "You're impossible."

"I'm a Winchester." Sam responded proudly. "Now, are we going inside, or what?"

He wasn't going to win this one, Dean could see that. He turned the car off and opened his door. Sam held out a hand, eyebrow raised. "Keys."

"Sam."

"Keys."

Dean sighed and put the keys in Sam's hand before he climbed out of the car. "See, not so hard."

Sam was grinning as he fished his backpack out of the back seat and they went inside. Dean sat on the couch and reached for the remote, looking up when Sam dropped down beside him. "Don't you have homework?"

"Nope, got it all done at school so we could just hang out."

"Hang out. Us." Dean squinted at his brother. "Who are you and what have you done with Sam?"

"Funny." Sam punched his shoulder. "You've been gone a lot."

"Been working, Sam." Dean said, not sure why he was so uncomfortable at the moment.

"I haven't thanked you." Sam said softly a few minutes later, while Dean was flipping through channels on the television.

Dean frowned, but didn't look at him. "For what?"

"I know you did it for me." Sam's voice was even softer. "And I know that you come home hurt and that you hate it, and that you hide it so I won't know how bad it is."

"Sam…" Dean wanted to stand up and pace, but he was still in a fair amount of pain and walking only aggravated it. "Don't."

"No, you need to know that I know."

Dean froze. Sam's hand grabbed at his and held it. "I know."

Slowly Dean shook his head. "You can't know."

Sam sniffed and Dean looked up, startled to find his brother had tears on his face. "Dean…I'm so sorry."

Dean pulled his hand away and stood, wincing, but taking two steps away anyway. "No. No."

Sam was behind him, hugging him from behind and Dean couldn't pull away. "I love you, Dean. I love you and I don't ever want you to go back there."

Sam held him tight for a long moment before Dean pulled away. "It isn't that easy, Sam."

"Yes it is." Sam said petulantly. "You don't go. How is that not easy?"

Dean sighed. "They'll come looking for me."

"Let them come." Sam responded. "Dad's here now. He'll protect us."

Dean knew better. There father was in no shape to protect them. Not from the likes of Charlie. "No Sam. These guys…they're serious. And they're mean. I've seen what they do to people who don't do what they want, okay?"

Sam shook his head. "No. It isn't. You need to tell Dad."

"No! Fuck, no Sam." Dean limped away, pulling on his hair to try to ground himself. He needed to get control of this conversation before it got worse. "Look, I'll stay home tonight. I can…I can figure something out, but if I don't go back, it isn't just me they'll come after, okay?"

Sam frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

Dean shook his head and limped back to the couch. "You know I won't let anything happen to you." Dean said softly.

"Me?" Sam's voice squeaked a little as he said it.

Dean nodded and sat back down. "Yeah…but I won't let them near you, okay?"

Sam looked a little put off by the idea that it wasn't just Dean in harms way. He sat in the chair and bit his lip. They were quiet a long time, staring at some stupid movie on the television. "I still think you should tell Dad." Sam said softly a while later, not looking at Dean. "He'll know what to do."

"I'm not telling Dad. And neither are you." Dean replied. "I got myself into this. I'll get myself out."

Sam shook his head like he didn't believe Dean. "This is bad, Dean."

"Yeah Sam, it really is."

They stopped talking then, both of them staring at the screen until Jim and their father came home. John looked pissy and in pain and he leaned heavily on the walker as Jim held the door for him. He didn't stop in the living room, didn't acknowledge Sam or Dean, just headed for his bedroom. Jim followed, emerging a few minutes later.

"He's had a rough afternoon. I gave him his pain meds, he'll sleep for a while." 

Dean glanced up at him, then at Sam and ultimately back at the television. He didn't want to get dragged into conversation.

"You know, I half expected we'd get home and find you gone." Jim said.

"Dad told me to stay home." Dean countered. "I'm home." His eyes stole to the door, wondering how long it would take…and knowing the next time Shaun was here in his house it wouldn't be to suck his dick in the bedroom.

"I'll make dinner." Jim's eyes were still on him, he could feel them. Dean stared at the TV until he was gone. It was going to be a very long night.

Dean watched the door until nearly midnight, then relinquished the couch to Pastor Jim. He stopped to check on Sam, then headed into his own room. The air was cold and when he turned on the lights he discovered why.

The window was open, the cold November air blowing into the room. He closed the window, rubbing at his arms and turning to look around the room. There was an envelope on his bed.

His hands were shaking as he lifted it. He pulled a package of pictures out of it, stills of the boy on the bed, of Dean fucking him, of his face before they put the hood on him. At the bottom was a simple piece of paper with the words, "I own you."

They'd been there, in his house, and none of them had known it.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean helped his father to the breakfast table and poured him a cup of coffee. "You're moving better this morning."

John grunted in acknowledgment. Jim was still asleep on the couch, Sam gone to school. Dean had only slept a few hours, sure someone would come through his window at any minute.

"So, I was thinking…" Dean said, taking his own cup of coffee to the other side of the table. "You're doing better and I've had enough of this snow, we should pull up and head south. Texas? Lots of ghosts and crap in Texas."

"You know we have to let Sam finish the semester." John said, his voice gruff. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "And I sure as hell ain't up to hunting."

"Well, not right now, no." Dean said, his heart hammering in his chest. "But Christmas. We head south. Warmer weather will be good for you." He was about to say something more, but there was a knock at the door. It was barely eight am. 

Dean got up and went to answer it. The hip didn't hinder him as much and the pain was easing up, though the bruising was still spectacular. He opened the door to find to police officers standing on the porch. "Morning, officers. Can I help you?"

"We're looking for Dean Winchester?"

"I'm Dean."

"Sir, may we come in? We have a few questions."

"I…ah…" Dean glanced at Pastor Jim, who was sitting up and frowning at him. "Of course, come in." He stepped aside, holding the door. The two men entered the room, their eyes dancing around the sparse furnishings and coming back to Dean. "What is this about?"

One of them held up a picture. "Do you know this young man?"

Dean's heart sped up. It was the face of the boy at Matty's house. The one in the pictures that had been on his bed. He swallowed. "No, I don't think I do." 

"He was assaulted recently. His brother gave your name as someone who might have seen who did it. Said you came to the house the same day?"

"His brother?" Dean's mouth was dry, his hands itching. "Who…I'm sorry, who is his brother?"

"Matthew Layden," the first officer responded.

Matty. Dean nodded. "Yeah, I know Matty. Didn't know he had a brother."

"May we ask what you were doing at Mr. Layden's house?"

Dean could feel Jim looking at him, could sense his father somewhere behind him. He had to keep it together. He took a deep breath. "I went to see Matty, see how he was doing."

"And how do you know Mr. Layden?"

"I…ah…we worked together." Dean said, crossing his arms. "Is his brother okay? I mean…you said he was assaulted. Was it the same guys who hurt Matty?"

"We aren't sure yet, Mr. Winchester. Did you see anything or anyone near the house that you would consider suspicious?"

"No, I can't say that I did. I stopped in, saw Matty and I had to get to work."

The officers were nodding and jotting down notes. "Here's my number, in case you think of anything. Thank you for your time."

Dean shook their hands and they left. His hands shook as he looked at the business card. 

"Dean?"

He turned, looking from the business card to his father. 

"What was that about?"

Dean licked his lips. "A friend…um…I…and…I need to shower."

 

Dean decided that his best course of action was to get out of the house without his father knowing. He dressed and slipped out the same window Charlie's goons had used to get in and leave the pictures. It meant walking to work, but it beat the alternative.

He went to the front door of the club. It was early, barely dusk. Shaun stopped him. "He's pissed."

"I figured." Dean said. "I can explain."

"Not sure he wants explaining. Pretty sure he wants to kick your ass."

"I'm here, okay." Dean shook his head. "I'll talk to him." He opened the door and headed for Charlie's office. 

"Well, well, look who decided to join us. I see you got my message."

Dean turned at the door of the office to find Charlie behind him. He held up both hands. "I'm sorry about last night. I couldn't get away."

"Excuses won't get you very far, Mustang."

"Charlie, look…my family…they needed me last night. Besides, I can't dance." He gestured at his hip.

Charlie closed the distance between them, shoving Dean into the door of the office. "If I was paying you to dance, I'd care about that. I lost a lot of money not having your ass in this place last night. I've got you booked out for two weeks, you fucking ungrateful whore."

His hand fisted in Dean's hair, pulling his head back. "You're going to make it up to me."

"Yeah, Charlie. Anything." Dean said, knowing he was in for a really bad night.

"You're going to go into the back room and you're going to do every guy I send in there. And I'm not paying you for any of them. None. And when they're done with you, you're going to clean yourself up and you're going to a special gig up on the hill. Understand me?"

Dean nodded as much as he could with the way Charlie was holding his head. "Go on then. Get naked." He shoved Dean toward the back. 

Dean went, trying to control his breathing. He could hear Charlie on the phone. This was not going to be easy. He let himself into the room, his eyes tracking to the cameras he knew were mounted in the corners. He pulled his jacket and shirts off, then toed his shoes off. 

He moved to the corner with the bench and shelf, unbuttoning his jeans. He exhaled and dropped his jeans, kicking them off and reaching for the lube. He knew once things got started, he wasn't guaranteed of anything, so he'd best make use of the time to make it as easy as he could.

He slicked up two of his fingers and reached behind himself. He hated this part, well, he hated all of it. But this made him feel like he was dirty, like he was asking for what was about to happen…wanted it. 

He could feel himself flushing red, and closed his eyes before shoving the two fingers in. He smeared the lube around and pressed his fingers to the sides of his ass, opening himself up. He'd learned that proper prep meant less pain after.

"Now, that's a pretty sight."

Dean stopped, his head hanging. Spike. He knew the voice.

"A pretty whore making himself all ready for me. Been waiting on this chance, Mustang. Gonna fuck you now."

Great. Charlie was starting with the other dancers. Dean licked his lips and inhaled. "Gonna talk about it or do it?" he asked, knowing it would piss Spike off.

He cringed when Spike grabbed the back of his neck with one hand and knocked Dean's hand away from his ass with the other. "How's this for doing it?" Spike shoved his cock into Dean hard.

Dean grunted and pushed back. "You can do better than that." He braced himself on the shelf and Spike rose to the challenge, pulling out and shoving back in. He fucked Dean fast and hard, coming before he likely meant to because of it. He cursed at Dean and let go of him before stalking away.

Two more of the other dancers came and went before the voice behind him was one he didn't know. "Turn around."

Dean did as he was told, keeping his eyes down and away. "Nice. I'll be making use of those beautiful lips, so take a knee."

Dean licked his lips self consciously and took a few steps closer before he went to his knees. The man presented himself and waited, so Dean lifted his hands to unzip him and coax his cock out. He didn't think he'd ever get used to the taste of cock, or come for that matter.

He stroked it a few times with his hand to get it to harden, then licked at the tip. Most of the time the men who paid for him just wanted a hole to fuck, they didn't care about technique or skill. He closed his eyes and took the head between his lips. 

The man's hand settled on his head, but didn't push or pull. He didn't move, just waited for Dean to find a pace, his lips closed tight over the man's cock as he bobbed up and down.

There was a single grunt in warning, then the man stepped back, spilling come down Dean's chest.

The man left the room then and Dean got up off his knees, cleaning his chest of come and pacing the room a little while he waited. He didn't have to wait long. The man who came in next seemed vaguely familiar, probably someone Dean had seen at the club. 

He grinned, his eyes sweeping over Dean, then to a chair on the side of the room. He sat, pulling his cock out and stroking it. "Come on then."

Dean nodded tightly. His face was red hot as he positioned himself, his legs on either side of the man's knees. He used his hands on the chair arms for leverage and lowered himself, while the man held his cock in place for him. He sank down the cock slowly, gasping when he'd gotten it fully inside him.

He pulled himself up again and let himself sink. 

"That's a good boy, go on and fuck yourself. Make it good."

The man's hand petted down Dean's back. Dean did his best to ignore everything but what he was supposed to be doing. He was starting to shake with the effort of controlling the movements when the man's hands grabbed Dean's sides and forced him forward, onto his knees on the floor.

Two quick thrusts and the man was coming all over Dean's ass.

Dean got to his feet and limped over to the corner, his hip suddenly hurting like it had the night the cowboy had stomped on him. He pulled a towel off the shelf and cleaned up again, turning when the door opened.

It was Shaun this time. "Come on, boss says to get cleaned up."

Dean frowned. He'd expected more. "So fast?"

"Don't question and don't give him lip, his in a shit mood." Shaun grabbed his shoulder when he got close enough and shoved him into the hall, herding him back toward the shower. When he was clean and dried off, Shaun handed him a trench coat. "Put this on."

"What about—"

"Shut it." Shaun growled. "Just fucking do what you're told for a change, okay?"

"Fine." Dean put the coat on, tying the belt around his waist. He felt ridiculously naked as Shaun herded him through the dressing room and out into the alley and the waiting van. Charlie was waiting and he shoved a hood over Dean's head, shoving Dean to a seat. 

"You are not to speak from now until you are released when this is over. You are to be pliant and obedient. You will be touched and fucked and talked about as though you are little more than a piece of art. You may be hit, spanked, caned, whipped or bitten as the hosts see fit."

The van pulled into traffic. Dean tried to follow the turns and speeds to figure out where they were going, but Charlie was still talking. "Come morning, if you have behaved and the hosts are pleased, I will consider forgiving you."

"Wait, morning?" Dean said without thinking.

Something hard came down over his thighs.

"Not a fucking word."

Dean nodded frantically. 

"Morning. Deal with it."

They were quiet then for the duration of the drive. When the van stopped, Charlie led Dean out and removed the hood. "Eyes down."

He followed Charlie up to a door. The man who opened the door was in a tux and a mask. Charlie untied the belt of the coat and pulled the coat off Dean all together, leaving him standing on the step naked.

"Be good." 

Charlie walked away, taking the jacket. The man at the door stood aside and Dean made himself walk inside. The place was filled with people in tuxes and masks. All but some woman in what looked like a sling being fucked by a man in a tux. She was naked like Dean.

He was walked into another room where there were more people in masks and tuxes. In the center of the room, his hands were put into tight leather cuffs and pulled up over his head. His eyes followed up to a complex system of pulleys. Cuffs were added to his thighs, high up nearly under his ass, and ankles and a belt fitted around his waist.

When they were done, he was hoisted up, his weight held by his arms, the belt and the cuffs on his thighs. He was spread open and with little ado, a tuxedo clad man stepped between his thighs, pulled out his cock and shoved it into Dean.

The suspension system swung with each thrust. All around them people were watching. It was disconcerting not seeing their eyes or faces. Like they almost didn't exist.

Except for how he was definitely getting fucked. His shoulders were already feeling the strain and his injured hip was yelling at the angle it was bent. When the man finished with him, Dean could feel come dripping from him, but not for long. A few minutes later there was a tongue licking him clean.

He was rearranged, his arms lowered, his head dropped back. Two men then, one fucking his ass, one his mouth. He did what he could to relax, to ignore them. He closed his eyes and pretended he was somewhere else. Anywhere else.

It worked for a while. Until they moved him again, flipping him so he was face down, ass up. Hands rubbed over his ass, that tongue returned, cleaning the come from him, licking into his hole.

When it was gone they left him alone for a while, milling around. He caught snippets of conversation. Hands touched him, caressing over skin or pinching, slapping his ass in emphasis to something they said. 

Someone caressed over the bruising on his leg, poked at it until Dean was fighting the urge to scream in pain. Fire burned through the hip joint, pain flared along the length of the bruise and a moment later he realized why.

Something hard had hit him. Something hard and long. It came down again, this time on his ass. A paddle. Or something. It hit him over and over until his skin was flushed with heat and his face was just as hot with embarrassment. 

Someone stepped in to fuck him then. And someone dragged his head up to suck a cock. He stopped thinking. Stopped anticipating. He hung in his bonds and let them use him.

Somewhere through the night they used a cane on him, leaving long red, raised welts on his ass and thighs and across his back. Several of them broke skin and someone drew on him with the blood. 

Morning seemed a long, long way off.

 

"Can I talk to you?" Sam asked from the doorway of his bedroom.

John nodded, putting aside the book he hadn't really been reading. He was too busy worrying about Dean, who had snuck off hours before. Jim was out looking for him, but they both knew that the chances of finding him were pretty slim.

Sam came in, circling the bed and scratching behind his ear. "Dean…" He sighed and shook his head. "He's in trouble."

John narrowed his eyes. "Do you know something, Sam?"

Sam looked at him, his face all scrunched up. "He comes home hurt a lot. Tries to tell me he's okay, but I know. I can see." He paced more. "He has nightmares. Talks about people hurting him in his sleep."

There was more to it, John could see it on his face. "Sam, if you know what your brother has gotten himself into…"

"I think…I mean…damn it." He turned to face John, his expression filled with pain. "It isn't his fault, okay? He did it for me. He told me….well, he didn't actually tell me…but it's me." He huffed and came to sit next to John on the bed. "He started out just…dancing."

He looked down at his hands and bit his lip. "I found…he rented these…videos…and I found this…" He pulled something out of his back pocket and handed it to John.

It was a business card for some strip club downtown. But Sam had implied there was more. "He needed to make money fast. That cold snap hit, and we were freezing and the gas company wanted a deposit and he didn't know what else to do." Sam looked up at him, like he expected John to be angry.

He wasn't angry though, only more worried. "What else, Sam?"

Sam got up to pace again, to the door and back. "He'll kill me if I tell you."

John pulled the covers back and pushed himself upright. It hurt, but at that moment the important thing was getting the information out of Sam.

"I'll deal with him, but you have to tell me."

"I…the man…" Sam gestured at the card. "I think he…forces Dean to…" He looked away, like he couldn't say the words while looking at John. "…sex. I think he makes Dean have sex…with…other men."

John stumbled back, sitting heavily on the bed. He'd imagined drugs or stolen merchandise, he'd considered other criminal activities, but prostitution had never crossed his mind.

Sam came toward him. "He sometimes cries when he thinks I won't hear him and he showers all the time, like he can't get clean and he won't tell me, but Dad, he's scared."

John's mind raced over what he knew and it fit. All of it fit. "It's okay Sam. Jim and I will take care of it."

"He…he said they threatened to hurt me." Sam said, sitting next to him on the bed. "He said they were going to…do things to me, if he didn't do what he was supposed to."

Cold fury dumped into his stomach, but John put a hand around his younger son and pulled him in tight. "I'm not going to let that happen Sam."

He looked at the clock. It was nearly eleven. He could still get to that club. He would call Jim and have him meet him there. "Sam, I'm going to go get your brother. You lock yourself in here."

"Dad, you can't. Your back."

John stood, hiding the grimace from the pain. "I'll be fine." He walked slowly to his dresser and pulled out clothes. "You just stay here."

 

Music blared out the door of the club as they pulled up. A big bouncer sat at the door. John stepped out onto the sidewalk, biting the inside of his cheek to distract him from the pain spreading through his lower back.

Jim joined him and together they approached the bouncer. They paid their cover and moved inside, pausing near the door to get the lay of the land. John pointed toward the bar and Jim nodded. They moved slowly, watching some young man in little more than a speedo gyrate on stage to some pounding bass line. 

The crowd was pretty varied. Young and old, well dressed and not. 

They sat at the bar and ordered up a couple of beers, scanning the room. John spotted what looked like an office door and tapped Jim's shoulder, pointing. Jim nodded. They both drank from their beers and set them down, easing off their stools and headed for the office.

John knocked, then opened the door, startling the middle aged man behind the desk. 

"Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for my son." John said gruffly, moving into the office. He saw the man push the button for security and knew that limited his time.

"And who might that be?"

"The underage boy you've been letting dance for you." Jim said beside him. "Something I'm sure the police would have an interest in."

The man raised an eyebrow. "My dancers are contractors. It's not my job to check their backgrounds. This kid got a name?"

"Winchester." John said. 

The man stood, buttoning his suit jacket. "Ah, Mustang. He isn't here. Come on, I'll show you." He stepped around John and back into the club. The big bouncer and another big guy were instantly at his side. 

John's back was starting to seize up, but he didn't let it show as they followed the men toward the back stage area and into a dressing room. "That there is his mirror. He was supposed to dance tonight, but never showed. As far as I'm concerned, that terminates his opportunities here."

Dancers moved out of their way and John got the message as they were led to a back door and out into an alley. "Now, if you know what's good for you, Mr. Winchester, you won't come back here again."

Jim pulled on his arm as they shifted around to keep from getting pinned against a wall. "Don't worry. You'll never see me again." John let Jim tug him out of the alley and back to Jim's truck. Dean wasn't there. But John was pretty certain this Charlie person knew where he was.

"What now?" Jim asked as they got into the truck.

"Now? We find Dean, and once we know he's safe, we bring this guy down."

 

Time fell away without meaning anything. He was licked and touched and fondled, used to hold drinks and repositioned more times than he could count. Upside down and backwards, folded in half and spread eagle, hit with paddles and canes and things he never actually saw. 

He lost count of the sex. 

Eventually he was lowered to the floor and released, though he wasn't sure he could move. He was covered in come and blood and sweat. He was covered with a blanket and scooped up, carried, dropped. The wind was cold. He assumed he was on the front step of the house, but didn't have the strength to move the blanket to find out.

He heard an engine and footsteps and four hands lifted him, carried him and put him down inside the van.

The van lurched forward and the blanket was pulled away. Shaun's face loomed over his, hard set and angry. Dean didn't understand. 

Shaun punched him hard, across the face. 

"Your daddy came to see the boss last night." Shaun said.

The other person grabbed a fistful of Dean's hair, dragging him away from Shaun. "Boss didn't like that." Dean couldn't focus on the man's face to figure out who it was. A fist slammed into his stomach, then Shaun was spreading Dean's legs, unzipping his pants.

"Told us to let you know that your services are no longer required." He pounded into Dean while the other man punched Dean repeatedly. "Your deal is broken and it's time to pay the penalties." Shaun shoved inside him and came.

He pulled away, grabbing Dean's ankle and using it to flip him over. Pain spiked in his knee, shot up into the injured hip and Dean screamed, scrambling at the carpeted floor of the van to try to find some traction. 

A booted foot kicked him in the side, then stepped on his neck, holding him down as something large was shoved into him. "Boy this ass is so loose you could drive a truck into it."

The big thing, whatever it was, moved in and out of him before the van turned a corner and knocked them all sideways. "Almost there boys, finish up."

"Too bad, I'd love to spend some time with this one."

"He's an eager little whore, Joey, you'd have liked him." Shaun said. "Aren't you, Mustang? Let me fuck you with your brother in the next room, didn't you? Boy, I'm gonna like getting me a piece of that one. That Sammy? He's a cutie."

Dean thrashed under them, but he was weak and still had something huge sticking out of his ass. Shaun's foot left his neck, but came down heel first on his shoulder. He was kicked over, looking up just in time to see a baseball bat swing at his leg. He screamed before it even connected, the bone cracking audibly.

Shaun stomped on the front of the same shoulder and Dean's eyes rolled back, his body seizing up tight. He was going to pass out. 

He was vaguely aware of the van stopping, of being rolled up in the blanket and thrown out of the van, rolling, screaming, then black.

 

The sun wasn't even up, but John hadn't been to bed. He'd exhausted every possible lead he could pull, looked every place he could think of. He was barely moving when he heard the sound of an engine, a door and men laughing. Then it was a thud and screaming and John had the door open and was off the porch before he realized how much the movement hurt him.

In the vague pre-dawn light, he could see a body, wrapped in a dark blanket on the snow covered yard. "Jim!" John yelled, moving toward it, his heart in his throat.

The blanket moved as he got closer and John grabbed at Jim's arm as he got close enough, using his friend to help him get down to his knees. He peeled back the blanket. "Oh, god."

"I'll call an ambulance." Jim said, disappearing almost immediately. 

"Dean? Dean, can you hear me?" John whispered, moving more of the blanket to get a better look. His face was bloody and swollen, his shoulder at an odd angle. He was naked, John realized as he got more of the blanket untangled from his limbs.

Naked, with a baseball bat shoved inside his ass. 

John's hand hovered over the bat, uncertain whether or not to pull it out…then deciding that he didn't want anyone to see him that way. Dean groaned as he touched the bat, his eyes opening, his hand grabbing at John.

"Easy, easy." John whispered.

"No." Dean whined, rolling toward John.

"I’m going to take it out Dean. Just hold still."

He pulled and Dean yelled. John dropped the bat, reaching to try to sooth Dean, but not sure where to touch him that wouldn't hurt. The sun was just starting to paint the sky with red light, letting him see more of his son's injuries.

"Ambulance is on their way." Jim said, re-joining him with his first aid kit in hand. "I told Sam to stay inside."

"No! Sam! Dad, Sam." Dean's fingers scrambled to get a hold of John's hand. "Don't leave Sam alone. They can get into the house. They'll come for him."

John looked over his shoulder. Sam stood in the doorway. "Sam, come where we can see you."

He didn't look to see that Sam obeyed, he knew the boy would. "Okay, Dean. Just hold on. Help is coming."

Jim had his first aid kit opened, but clearly didn't know where to begin. It was becoming evident, as the light increased, Dean had been beaten more than once. There were welts across his back and thighs and ass, the skin raised and red and broken open in places. His leg was broken in at least one place, the knee turned out strangely.

It took forever to hear the sirens, for the EMTs to get out of the ambulance, but finally they were there asking him to move back. Dean cried out as they moved him, the sound cutting through John, all the more when Sam rushed at him, hiding his face in John's chest. 

Finally, they had Dean strapped to a back board, his neck braced, and they lifted him into the ambulance. "I'll ride with him, you bring Sam." John said, guiding Sam to Jim.

He needed help to get up beside Dean, and his back was going to be screaming at him for hours, but John wasn't letting Dean out of his sight. Dean flitted in and out of consciousness as they rode to the hospital.

He followed them up to the big double doors where a nurse caught him and held him back. "Let us do our jobs."

He nodded and went back to the chairs in the waiting area. Sam rushed at him before he could sit down. "Where is he? Where's Dean?"

"Calm down. He's with the doctors. All we can do is wait."

"Is he going to be okay?" Sam was wide eyed and scared.

"I hope so Sam." John replied. "I hope so."

The man responsible for this didn't have long to breathe if John Winchester had anything to say about it. He may not be supernatural, but he was as evil as they came, and John Winchester hunted evil. Hunted it, killed it, salted and burned it. 

 

Everything hurt. He knew that before he even opened his eyes. The sounds near his head were strange, soft beeping that took him a few minutes to place. Hospital. He opened his eyes, or the one that would open. 

He was on his left side, his back bare. His right leg was encased in plaster, from the hip down to his ankle. Movement beside him caught his eye. His father smiled softly at him, glancing at Sam asleep in his lap.

"Hey." John said softly. His hand brushed over Dean's head. "You're going to be okay."

Dean wasn't sure if his father was placating him or serious. He didn't feel like he was going to be okay. He felt like he'd been worked over by a pack of rhinos.

He flushed as he remembered what he'd been worked over by. He closed his eyes, remembering the pain, Shaun…who Dean had started to believe actually liked him. They'd fucked him too…and then…he squeezed his eyes closed tighter. His father had found him like that. With that…thing…shoved up his ass, with his skin covered in come.

"It's okay, Dean." His father's voice was gentle, soft even. "It's okay. It's over now."

Dean shivered. "No. Charlie…" He opened his eyes. His father's smile was frightening.

"Don't worry about him. I've got plans for him."

Dean didn't know what that meant, but he was pretty sure they were plans that even Charlie wouldn't see coming.

 

Sam hardly left Dean's side, even now that they were moved and set up someplace far enough away that Charlie and his men would never find them. Dean wasn't back on his feet yet, but at least John didn't hear him crying at night anymore. 

Spring was coming and Dean was at least out of the heavy cast and into a leg brace that had him a little more mobile. 

John finished packing his bag and looked up at Dean who was leaning on the door of his bedroom.

"Is there a reason Pastor Jim just pulled in?"

John nodded. "I asked him to keep an eye on you boys. I've got something I need to do."

"You know, we don't need a babysitter." Dean said.

"No, but you can't hold a gun steady with that shoulder yet, and I'm not leaving you boys without protection. I won't be long."

"What is it this time?" Dean asked.

John wasn't about to tell him the truth. "Remember before my accident, I was hunting?" Dean nodded. John crossed to his dresser and picked up his favorite rosary. "It was a vampire, and it got away. I'm going back to finish it."

"You sure you're ready for that?" Dean asked, his voice clearly indicating he didn't think John was.

"Only one way to find out, Son. I won't be long."

In fact, there was a lot more to it. The vampire had gotten between him and the werewolf he had been hunting. He needed to kill the wolf before the lunar cycle ended and he wasn't prepared for vampire, so John had trapped the vampire in an abandoned mine, chained and locked behind sealed doors until John could get back there to kill it.

By now, provided it was still where he left it, it would be starving.

Truth was, John wasn't back to a hundred percent himself, but he was done waiting for justice. He'd let Jim talk him into running, into taking the boys away and not ripping the man to shreds with his own hands, but now that he was stronger, now that he knew…A month before he'd set the ball rolling, calling in an old favor with Bobby Singer.

He grabbed his bag and Dean shifted out of his way, following him slowly. Jim was already dropping his own bag on the coffee table. "Watch the speed traps around the state line."

John nodded. "You two behave."

"You be careful." Dean said.

Something in the tone made John wonder if the boy knew what he was really up to. "Be back before you know it."

He'd been stewing on it a long while. He'd gotten the whole story over time from Dean, how the man had given him hope and then manipulated him, used his love of his family to terrorize him.

And Dean wasn't alone. There were others. 

But John wasn't going to let him terrorize any others.

His first stop was that abandoned mine, armed with holy water and a dagger laced with dead man's blood. The fight left them both bloody, but when it was done, the vampire was in the trunk of his car and he set off to find Charlie and his boys.

It was just past closing time when John pulled up. He watched the dancers leaving, watched the bouncer close and lock the front door. He pulled the heavy chain out of the back seat and went to those doors, looping the chain through the handles and locking them tight.

He opened the trunk. The vampire hissed at him, but John dragged him out and marched him up the alley toward the dressing room door. 

"I figure you must be hungry. I'm going to give you a treat. Anyone inside this building is yours. Gorge yourself. My way of paying you back for the months of starvation."

"And then what?"

John smiled. "Get out if you can." He cut the rope binding the vampire's hands and shoved him in the door. "I aim to burn the place down by morning."

He shoved the door shut behind the vampire. The metal pole was right where Bobby had said it would be. John lifted it from behind the trash cans and wedged one end under the door knob. The other crammed against the wall on the opposite side of the alley, making the door impossible to open.

He headed back toward the car then, imagining he could hear screaming inside. "Told you you would never see me again, bastard." He reached into the front seat of the car, opening his duffle bag.

The remote was simple enough, the charges set in the building's basement. The fire would start slow, and burn hot. Very hot. By the time the sun rose, there wouldn't be anyone inside left to save.

It wasn't the ending he would have preferred. But Jim was right about that. It couldn't trace back to him, or his boys.

He got in the car and started it, holding the switch. He pulled out into the street, pressing the button. He let his eyes sweep the building once more, then he headed out, headed home, back to his boys.

Where he belonged.

Dean looked up when he came in, his eyes meeting John's and asking the question he wouldn't ask with Jim and Sam sitting there. John nodded. 

Dean relaxed, smiled even. 

Neither one of them was one hundred percent themselves again. They might never be. One icy road, one accident had changed them both. But they were together, and they were safe. As safe as any family could be. John aimed to make sure they stayed that way.


End file.
